


pink + white

by bisexualbluesargent



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Cohabitation, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Anime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23898937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualbluesargent/pseuds/bisexualbluesargent
Summary: It was summer. They went to the beach.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	1. kaoru

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my very long and very specific ouran fic about the summer before haruhi starts college where they live on the beach and all fall in love with each other. there is non-graphic sexual content in this fic - jsyk if that's not your thing. no incest at all, to be clear. each chapter is a different character's pov. thanks for reading if u do!

“Graduation,” said Tamaki on a sigh.

The rest turned to look at him. “Yes?” said Kyouya warily.

Tamaki turned to look at all of them at once, somehow. The sun was trying to claw its way past his jawline. Haruhi furrowed her brow at him, and Kaoru wondered if she knew what he was about to say in that way she sometimes did. “I want you all forever. If you’ll have me.” He smiled at them like he hadn’t just said something insane and weird that would also somehow would get them to marvel, night after night, about what they had done to make him wonder if they’d ever have him, take him, to make him wonder if they’d ever let him go.

—

They lived together, sort of. Kaoru wasn’t sure how to describe it other than this: they had followed Haruhi to college and each lived in a beautiful apartment in the complex across from her. Mori and Honey had obviously graduated years before them and were living somewhere else, most of the time, but had apartments there too for when they came and visited. Haruhi was stubborn; she didn’t want to share a place, thank you, she needed her alone time, she didn’t want to live in the same building, not really, she didn’t want their money to move somewhere nicer, definitely not that.

Kaoru wished she would take _something_ , at least, because he was tired of Tamaki falling gracefully over couches and futons and the like with a hand over his forehead, whining about how he wished she were closer, that she could live nicer, blah blah blah.

He was not really tired of anyone but on his worst days, he felt like he was tired of Tamaki. And he felt like, oh, he didn’t know. That he was changing in ways that were different from Hikaru, for one.

That was a scary thing. 

Hikaru would tell Tamaki when he was tired of him, but Kaoru would also watch Hikaru watch Tamaki place flowers in a vase, play a Bach piece for a warmup. Kaoru supposed Tamaki had nice hands but he hadn’t really thought about them in the way Hikaru definitely had. And he certainly liked Haruhi but he didn’t notice the strands of hair that would fall out from behind her ears, or the way she would scratch at her elbow when she was bored. He noticed these things through Hikaru; his brother was another pair of eyes he had grown up with. It was just, well, Hikaru had turned a bit nearsighted and had little room for things other than Tamaki’s laugh when you woke him up too early, groggy and mixed in with words in French and still half in a dream. Or Haruhi’s laugh when you caught her by surprise and said something stupid because you had been raised in a mansion or whatever as they had. That sort of thing.

Kaoru felt like he had too much room inside of his head and nothing to fill it with. He did not want to be an observer, but he watched a lot of things and a lot of people and he knew how they worked but he still had no fucking clue what he looked like to others, other than being the mirrored version of Hikaru. 

Haruhi, one day, had told him he had more capability for tenderness from the get-go. More of an open-mindedness for vulnerability. Kaoru had found that so flattering that he forgot not to smile and say, “Well, Hikaru is like that, too,” which he did after a few moments. He truly believed it, though. Hikaru showed his social courage through other means, like honesty and being mean through honesty, when he couldn’t control himself.

Kaoru felt that all his talents lied with controlling himself. It didn’t make him sad but he wished he hadn’t become something so uninteresting to his own eyes. That’s why he looked at Kyouya, he supposed, because Kyouya always knew when he was being looked at and Kaoru liked doing stuff that made people nervous, because he was like his brother. 

And anyway, he and Kyouya weren’t that different, not in the end. They both got easily jealous, were hard to get through to, and hadn’t ever thought they would be this happy because of other people, which he thought made them a lot like the rest of them, actually. But Kyouya and him were better at liking the masks they put up. Kyouya did not want to admit he liked Tamaki, and Kaoru did not want to admit he was upset by that. 

“He’s an idiot,” Kyouya was saying, shuffling through stacks of paper, darting a glance at his laptop. Insults, Kaoru had found, were Kyouya’s way of showing affection. What was Kaoru’s way of showing affection, he often wondered. He didn’t know.

“You said that already,” Kaoru said, amused, chipping away at some old nail polish on his fingers. It was time for a new coat. 

“Green, I think.” Kyouya barely looked up at him before moving a coffee cup that had left a ring of brown on an official looking document to another area of the desk. 

Tamaki was giggling as Hikaru’s voice lilted through Kyouya’s sitting room, impassionately reciting the lines of an old French nursery rhyme. Kaoru felt his ears twitch. “Huh?” 

“You should paint your nails green next. Time for a new coat, is it not?” Kyouya’s voice was flat. 

“Yeah, green would be fun.” Kaoru tried to look casual. Was his face casual enough, he wondered.

“Your mother rang me the other day. Asked me how you were doing.” 

“What? Why would-“ Kaoru rubbed his hand across his face. “Weirdo. You’re weird, Ootori. What did you say, then?” 

“It’s not my fault I’m considered the responsible one of the group.” A stack of paper clacked against the wood of the table as Kyouya picked it up to straighten it out, all theatrics, a trait he’d picked up from Tamaki. Kyouya paused to look at him, one corner of his mouth tilting up in the tiniest way. “I said you two were doing great. That you were happier than I’d ever seen you be.”

Kaoru watched Haruhi chase Hikaru around in a rare display of childishness. He sighed, watching Tamaki’s expression at the both of them. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

—

“Okay,” said Hikaru, “I fucking hate this sewing machine. I wish I could just do it by hand.”

“You just love cussing these days. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You think mom would approve?” Kaoru grinned at Hikaru, watching him snicker.

“I don’t fucking care.” Hikaru threw ribbons onto the floor. “We’re clothing designers. I can talk however I’d like.”

“That’s the spirit, little bro.” Kaoru picked the ribbon off the ground to throw it back in his face.

“You’re the little bro,” muttered Hikaru indignantly, flipping through pages of dresses.

“Aw,” said Kaoru, pouting at him mockingly. It had always been easy, the two of them alone. They didn’t even have to speak but they did, for some reason. Always some sitcom-level jokes. Always some gossip on the kids at school. 

Hikaru was different than him because he rarely liked to look back at things that made him embarrassed or angry, and he hated confronting the worst parts of himself. Kaoru, however, liked to look back, and while he could see that occasionally it did more harm than good, he wondered why he was masochistic enough to spend long stretches of time staring at the ceiling at night, reflecting on things they had done in middle school.

They had been cruel for fun, then, and while Kaoru wasn’t sure he felt bad about it, he knew that now they had no desire for that sort of thing, and it felt good. They were doing good.

“Stop thinking so much.” Hikaru was cutting up a piece of paper, probably just for the hell of it, expression amused.

Kaoru sat on a chair next to him. “One of us has to.” None of the furniture in this room matched. They had done a tour of this place for a YouTube channel a couple weeks ago and this had been a favorite. Eclectic! They were minor celebrities these days. One time a girl had asked for an autograph when they were out getting cheeseburgers and Tamaki had looked so proud that Kaoru had wanted to vomit.

There was a comfortable silence, so comfortable that Kaoru thought it was time to say: “So. Tamaki.”

Hikaru blinked at him. “What about him.”

“You know.”

“Uh.”

“You know!” Kaoru was trying to make this easy. He couldn’t possibly be unaware of his own attraction, he couldn’t-

“Did he do something? Ugh, I think he’s going crazy these days, having all this time with no…”

_Well_ , Kaoru thought. _Hikaru might not know._

“You like him,” he interrupted. He tried to be as nice as possible.

Hikaru spluttered and dropped his pencil. “Like him-“

“And you like Haruhi.”

Hikaru just stared at him, turning red. His mouth was comically agape. Kaoru laughed at him.

“I do not like- I don’t- how could I like both of them,” Hikaru was saying, trying to sort papers but there weren’t enough for him to do anything with so it was just a bunch of noise.

“You tell me.” Kaoru took a piece of gum out from his pocket, unwrapped it carefully.

“I mean, Haruhi, we’ve established this, but- Tamaki? Fucking Tamaki?” Hikaru buried his head in his hands. Kaoru laughed at him again. “He’s so…”

Kaoru leered at him. “Pretty? Selfless? Plays the pia-“

“Ugh, shut up,” said Hikaru. Like Kyouya, the rest of them had picked up a flair for the dramatic through Tamaki, and this did not exclude Hikaru. He groaned. He looked up at Kaoru, almost sadly. “But Tamaki only likes Haruhi.”

“And Kyouya likes Tamaki,” continued Kaoru before he could stop himself, his voice in an identical wistful tone.

“Kyouya,” repeated Hikaru.

“Uh,” said Kaoru.

“Kyouya?” Hikaru was laughing at him.

“I-“ Kaoru had his head in his hands.

—

“We are going out,” announced Tamaki, and Kaoru watched Hikaru perk up and then watched him notice Kaoru watching him and give him the middle finger.

“Where,” said Kyouya, voice bored, which told Kaoru he was very interested.

“Hm,” said Tamaki. “I didn’t think about that part yet. I was hoping you all would have some idea.” Haruhi just looked at him.

“How about a vacation?” Kyouya lifted his eyes above his copy of Metamorphosis. Tamaki seemed unable to contain his joy.

It was summer. They went to the beach.

Kaoru didn’t like winter, because it made him sad, and he didn’t like spring or autumn because it was just a turning point for that sadness, but summer was always there, the end of school, the end of being around people he didn’t find worthwhile. He had five other people to give his life to, and they were going to let him. How beautiful was that. 

Summer was his favorite. 

If the beach had ever held any bad memories, it seemed like they were too old now and that they had decided they were irrelevant by this point. It seemed like one of them would have to do something awfully horrible to get any of them to leave completely, and that was reassuring to Kaoru. Kaoru liked knowing forever intimately. Tamaki, too, was in love with the word, and Kaoru liked him very much for that, at least.

Haruhi said nothing as they walked down the shore, Kaoru kicking shells with his feet, sometimes running ahead to scare flocks of tiny birds pecking along the shore for bugs or something. He’d seen them in a documentary once.

“Do you ever think about our first year?” Haruhi finally said, watching Tamaki lead the rest of them in a splashing war with Kyouya. Honey was on Mori’s shoulders, yelling incomprehensible over the other noise. They had called them up, they hadn’t been busy. It was eerily similar to the past while still being new. Kaoru watched his footprints get swallowed up by the water creeping up to meet him.

“I mean, yeah,” said Kaoru, looking at her. If he were Hikaru, he would have said, _Do you mean that time you tried to save those girls and had that fight with Tamaki and-_ but he wasn’t Hikaru, so he didn’t really add anything to those three words.

“That was the first time I consciously thought, hey, these guys understand me, or want to. It was so weird. I had never really felt that way before.”

“I know what you mean,” said Kaoru quietly, sitting down on the sand when Haruhi did so. Down the shoreline were a couple kids, making sandcastles and screaming with delight or fear, he wasn’t sure.

Haruhi smiled at him. Kaoru buried his hands in the sand. 

“How do you feel about Hikaru?” Kaoru felt around with his fingers, a rock brushing up against them.

“I wish I could give you a straight answer, Kaoru,” Haruhi said, wind whipping her hair into her eyes for a moment. “But all I know at this point is that I love all of you.”

“I get that.” Kaoru closed his eyes. They all knew each other but not themselves. “And Tamaki…?”

Haruhi looked at him curiously. “Tamaki?”

“You like him?”

“Like? Are we in middle school?” Haruhi did not say this quickly enough to seem defensive in her humor, even when she laughed to herself. “I mean. Like is a strong word.”

Kaoru looked at her. “The both of them, they care a lot for you.”

“I know.” Haruhi sighed. “I… well, they both care a lot for _you.”_

“Yeah, yeah, we all care a lot for each other.” Kaoru waved a hand at her.

“I still think you should talk to Kyouya.” Haruhi smirked at him.

Kaoru barked out a laugh. “Be quiet, Fujioka. Your boyfriends are coming our way.”

—

“Popsicles!” Tamaki was delighted. “These are like, the ones you get from the supermarket, right?”

“Are there even gourmet popsicles? What are you even saying here?” Haruhi was unwrapping one that was strawberry flavored. _Embarrassing,_ mouthed Hikaru at Tamaki, who blushed.

“My chef has an ice cream maker,” Honey said. Mori nodded. The two of them had taken the chocolate ones.

“Making things from scratch is often considered higher up on the cuisine tier.” Kyouya licked at a grape popsicle, not seeming extremely excited by it. Kaoru met his eyes and as he did the same with his own. Green apple.

Tamaki jovially plopped himself down next to Kaoru. “How are you feeling about this green apple flavor? I chose it too but it seems iffy. I need your honest review.” He was struggling to open the plastic.

“It’s pretty good,” said Kaoru, watching him do that for a few moments as a gift to himself. He raised an eyebrow. “Want some help with that, Suoh?”

Tamaki beamed at him. “God, please.”

“Do you ever eat breakfast for dinner?” Haruhi was asking Honey. Mori was silent with his ice cream. Hikaru was chortling and trying to rile her up: _what the fuck is that._ Kyouya was rolling his eyes and saying, _Of course they all had had it, things like that have their novelty but-_

“Thank you,” Tamaki said earnestly. He gave his popsicle a lick. “Oh. Strange.”

“Do you not like it?” Kaoru stretched out on the sand.

“No, it’s good, I think?” He did it again. “We should buy these all the time and keep them in our freezer.”

“That _is_ what people do,” agreed Kaoru, unsure of whether this conversation was leading to nowhere. 

“Oh,” said Tamaki suddenly. “I found this shell.” He fished around in his pocket. “It reminded me of you, so here.”

Kaoru looked at him strangely, taking it from him. A cowrie shell. He studied it, it was undamaged, bigger than other ones he had found that day. “I’ve never told anyone that I like collecting them.” 

“I’ve seen you do it,” said Tamaki, pausing his popsicle licking. “Sorry if I’ve…overstepped.”

“No,” said Kaoru. “That’s…” He swallowed. “So nice of you.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Tamaki grinned at him mischievously.

“Oh, don’t push it, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty, then.”

Kaoru shoved him lightly, laughing. He noticed Hikaru staring at them like he might narrow his eyes any second. _Possessive, are we?_ said Kaoru with his own eyes, and Hikaru gave him another middle finger.

Tamaki watched this exchange with light curiosity. “I think your brother is in love with me.”

Kaoru choked. “What.”

Tamaki blew out some air, thoughtful ( _thoughtful?_ though Kaoru incredulously). He was so serious, now. Kaoru often marveled at how Tamaki had so much inside of him and yet so little. Kyouya’s gaze had started to follow their movements, now, Kaoru felt it.

“I love you all,” said Tamaki, simply.

“Oh,” said Kaoru. He figured this was some sort of rejection, Tamaki hated to pick favorites, had convinced himself he hadn’t even when Haruhi was right there-

“No,” said Tamaki, watching him. “I love you all.”

“Ah,” said Kaoru. 

—

“What does that _mean,”_ said Hikaru, seething.

“I think it means-” started Kaoru, struggling for words, the sunset was angry tonight and the whole beach was red, Honey was napping on a beach towel and the kids who were playing had apparently gone back to their vacation homes, the sand was empty except for the six of them, lying around, Tamaki and Kyouya off to the side with their toes in the water, talking about something in hushed tones, Haruhi and Mori quietly playing cards. “I think it means that he would marry us all and have giant, elaborate weddings, if he could.”

Hikaru seemed to short-circuit. “What, so we should all fuck each other,” is what he came up with to say after a minute or two.

Kaoru laughed shortly. “Well. Yeah. I mean.”

“I mean?”

“I mean. It makes sense? Like. Not all of us together but _any_ of us together.” Kaoru swallowed. “He took out his phone and showed me all this stuff about being polyamorous. You should talk to him about it.”

Hikaru twirled his fingers around each other. Kaoru knew what panic looked like in his brother and the sky knew it too, copied it in the way nature did on the days where something important was going to happen. Hikaru abruptly grabbed his arm, gestured toward where Tamaki and Kyouya were sitting. They were kissing.

“Oh,” the two of them said at once, and looked at each other.

“That’s.” Kaoru tried to read his brother’s thoughts. Hikaru shook his head at him. _I don’t know._

“Okay,” said Hikaru. Kaoru knew he did not like to share, but he somehow didn’t seem angry about it. “Huh.”

“Huh,” repeated Kaoru, watching Tamaki run a hand below along Kyouya’s neck, smile into his hair.

—

“Well,” said Kaoru after dinner, “I think you know what I’m going to say so let’s just get this over with.”

Kyouya put down his book. “Do I, now.”

Kaoru copied his expression, mocking. During dinner, while Hikaru cracked jokes with Haruhi at Tamaki’s expense and Mori gave Honey his extra sweet buns, Kaoru had been looking at Kyouya. And Kyouya hadn’t really done much but look back.

“Well,” said Kaoru, again. He was nervous; he sat down a few inches farther away from Kyouya on his bed than what was necessary. “Kiss me, then.”

Kyouya studied him. “Is that what you want?”

“I want,” started Kaoru. His hands twitched. “I want you. I’m sure of that.”

Kyouya’s expression was betraying nothing.

And then Kyouya shifted on the bed sheets - was he nervous, too? - and laughed, it was so different than any laugh Kaoru had heard from him before that for a second Kaoru thought it was from the other room or something. Kaoru watched him do it, Kyouya’s face all lit up, and he was so delighted to have this thing, this thing no one else was seeing, that he had taken all the right turns and paths and that Kyouya had decided to give him this moment late at night in his bedroom devoid of any childhood posters or knickknacks. Kyouya took in a deep breath, looking at him sharply. “I’m not used to getting things I want, emotionally. I’m sure you understand what I’m saying.” Kaoru nodded slowly. “You’re so- easy, I suppose. With Tamaki, I didn’t even realize it for the longest time. With you, I had immediately decided it would go away eventually, and that you’d see that and leave it alone. I thought it was for the best. You know?” Kaoru kept looking at him. “Tamaki spreads himself so thin. I get worried that one day it won’t be enough for any one of us. But it doesn’t happen.” Silence. “And I keep thinking about you. Or even Haruhi.”

“Kyouya Ootori gets scared,” mused Kaoru. “That’s what you’re saying.”

“No, I-“ Kyouya sighed. “I suppose so.”

Kaoru leaned towards Kyouya, burying his face in his neck. Kyouya shuddered. “I’ll just to have to be the one to kiss you, then.” Kaoru pressed his lips to his collarbone, almost climbing on top of him. He was nothing if not eager, he knew. Kyouya seemed to want it, based on his climbing heart rate, which Kaoru felt with a hand pressed to his chest.

“I’m nervous, too,” Kaoru said, smirking at him. Kyouya raised an eyebrow at him. Kaoru knew it was a front, and he loved it nonetheless.

“You wanna tell me what you keep thinking about when it comes to me?” Kaoru was in his lap, moving against him slowly. Kyouya was trying to kiss him but Kaoru wouldn’t let him, much to both of their amusement.

“No,” said Kyouya, reaching his lips with his own, finally. He sucked at the edge of Kaoru’s jawline, and Kaoru let out a sound he would not let himself be embarrassed by. “It’s your fault for always turning every food we eat into the most phallic experience you can. Even the straw in your drink at dinner-“ Kaoru pulled at Kyouya’s hair, making him pause but somehow keep his composure, “-I don’t know how you manage that.”

“Oh, that?” Kaoru bit at Kyouya’s shoulder, and this time he did lose his composure. “I wasn’t even trying.”

Kyouya moved his hips up against him. “Oh, then, my apologies, Kaoru.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry,” Kaoru said, so excited when Kyouya took off his glasses that he didn’t realize he was being incomprehensible.

—

“You and Kyouya have been going off to places alone recently, huh?” Haruhi jiggled a glass of lemonade around in her hand, pretending not to laugh.

“Maybe we’re _also_ playing Scrabble or something, you don’t know,” said Kaoru, chin up and indignant, placing the letter F down in a place that was going to give him a lot of points. 

Hikaru groaned. “Please, let’s not talk about my brother and Kyouya of all people doing whatever they do, thank you.” He was staring at his remaining letters; Kaoru figured he had nothing good.

“Yeah, instead I think we should discuss him and Tamaki and _you,”_ said Kaoru, giving his best Cheshire smile to Haruhi on a silver platter.

Haruhi laughed good-naturedly while Hikaru cursed at him. 

“The kids are having fun,” said Kyouya to Tamaki as they walked by, earning him a giggle. Tamaki stopped to whisper something in Haruhi’s ear, but didn’t say it quiet enough, apparently, because Hikaru batted at his arms, yelling, “Stop helping her cheat, I hate this game,” before Tamaki tried to apologize and Haruhi laughed at them both and put multiple letters down.

“You can’t really cheat in Scrabble that way,” Kyouya said. Haruhi nodded. “It’s not like poker.”

“Whatever,” grumbled Hikaru. Tamaki took his hand and kissed it and he shut up immediately.

“Mori and Honey can only stay the week here,” said Tamaki. “But Kyouya said we can stay here at his beach house as long as we want.”

“How kind of him,” said Kaoru and Hikaru in harmonizing teasing tones, reaching over and giving each other a high five.

“Be nice,” said Haruhi. “Kyouya could stop getting food delivered from that restaurant you like and you’d have to go and - perish the thought - get it yourselves.”

“He wouldn’t,” the two of them said, mouths agape. Kaoru almost forgot where he was again, and it felt so lovely, to know that time hadn’t hurt them but instead taken them in her arms.

—

“I kind of get it,” said Kaoru to Haruhi, Kyouya, and Hikaru, who jumped, as they watched Mori try to teach Tamaki how to fish.

Honey cackled at all of them. “He _is_ good looking,” he agreed amiably, sipping at the last of the lemonade. Kyouya was eyeing the cooler like he was already crunching the numbers on much more he would have to order tonight over the phone.

“I’ll give him that,” said Kaoru airily, “but he’s so stupid. I mean, maybe you’re all into that.”

Hikaru shook his head at him, aghast. 

“He’s very kind,” said Honey. “They probably like that. But you’re kind, so maybe it is the stupid thing.” Kyouya twitched next to Kaoru.

Haruhi was blushing. It didn’t happen often. Honey patted her leg. “There, there, Haru-chan. It’s not your fault.”

“He can’t help being that irresistible,” continued Kaoru as Tamaki got himself tangled in his own fishing line, much to Mori’s distress.

“Blond fucking dumbass,” Hikaru acquiesced, though genuinely irritated. “Leave us alone. We could pick apart your love interests all day.”

“Could you really,” said Kyouya, flipping his Ray Bans up off of his eyes.

“Yes, four-eyes,” Hikaru replied quickly. _Weak,_ mouthed Kaoru to himself, making Hikaru push him over with a laugh.

“I’m quite aware of what Tamaki is like,” said Kyouya, flipping his copy of Forbes open with a flourish. Haruhi rolled her eyes at him. “It’s embarrassing for us all, believe me."

“But also so nice, isn’t it,” said Haruhi, quietly. They all looked at her. “We wouldn’t be here right now without him, would we?”

“No,” they all agreed. 

“No,” said Kyouya with finality, licking his finger to turn to the next page. “We wouldn’t.” After a while he darted a glance over to Kaoru. Kaoru nodded at him. Tamaki’s shell was in his pocket, still, made of something he could name but would have gotten scared to, if this were years ago.

—

The days stretched on.

Kaoru found himself losing track of time - he knew he was lucky. He didn’t try to think about it very much. For adulthood to look like this for him, this no-responsibilities and a-couple-dresses-a-week thing, he was lucky. He and Hikaru spent hours a day planning their fashion line they wanted to debut in the fall. They were unsure who it was for; there were dresses and suits and casual-wear. There were collars and ties and high heels. 

“Make that part wider,” Hikaru would say over Kaoru’s shoulder, watching him sketch on printer paper. They had run out of fancy sketchbook paper and were too lazy to buy more or ask Kyouya to buy more. Kaoru was the better draftsman, though Hikaru hated to say as much. Hikaru liked drawing plants and trees and people. Kaoru’s fingers smudged the graphite; he thought about Kyouya and his paintings of flowers and how it was so difficult to walk in on him doing it, because Kyouya knew all of their daily routines and chose times during which they were likely to be sleeping or out on the beach to bring out his watercolors, or his gouache. They really were lovely. Kaoru had once found a canvas under Kyouya’s bed.

“No, wait,” Hikaru was saying, “what if we made the frills pink-“

“And kept the rest like it is,” continued Kaoru, chewing his lip.

“Yeah,” said Hikaru, pleased.

Kaoru placed the paper on the desk. “Do you ever show Tamaki your drawings?”

“What? Uh,” said Hikaru. “Not, uh, really.”

“Hm.”

Hikaru glared at him. “I mean. Once, I drew him.”

Kaoru blanked for a few moments and burst into giggles. “Oh, _wow.”_

_“_ I really don’t need your opinion,” Hikaru said loftily. 

“ _Wow.”_

“I bet Kyouya-“

“You bet I what?” said Kyouya, all casual, appearing in the doorframe. Kaoru folded in on himself with laughter. Kyouya just studied him, amused.

Hikaru didn’t seem sure on whether he wanted to be angry or laugh, too. He decided to pretend to look for a pen underneath all the papers, which made Kaoru cackle at him further. Kyouya seemed to think for a moment. “I can always tell the difference, now,” he said.

Both of them stopped what they were doing to turn to him, sharply.

“Good for you,” said Hikaru, venomous.

Kyouya looked almost bored. “I don’t mean anything by it. It’s not just that you’ve both grown. I think- well. We’re all going for a hike, would you two like to come?”

Kaoru stayed silent, twirling around his pencil. Hikaru took in a deep breath like he was going to say something very mean, though, so Kaoru stepped in, saying, “Sure. Give us a moment.”

“Of course.” Kyouya’s tone had gotten more and more formal. His footsteps were brisk clatters across the wooden floor, farther and farther away.

Kaoru met Hikaru’s eyes. “It’s both good and bad, I think.”

Hikaru said nothing.

“I thought you didn’t-“

Hikaru still said nothing.

Kaoru walked over to him. Embraced him. Hikaru shook; he was crying.

“Don’t ever leave me,” said Hikaru, snot all over Kaoru’s shoulders. “Don’t.”

“I was always scared you would leave me first,” said Kaoru, quietly. He was crying, too. 

—

“Look!” Tamaki was shoving a starfish into Haruhi’s face, beaming like a child. “This is insane! I’ve never held one before!” Haruhi shoved him away, bemused. Tamaki gingerly put his starfish back into the water.

Kaoru picked up a sea slug and pushed it towards Tamaki’s field of vision, making him squeal and scamper away.

“Ha ha,” singsonged Hikaru. 

“Shut up,” said Tamaki, hurt. “Let me hold it, maybe if I get to know it better-“

“What is this, a date?” Kaoru wiggled the slug closer and watched Tamaki shudder. “Look, it loves you.” The slug seemed to have no disagreements with this statement. Hikaru laughed, delighted as Kaoru placed it in Tamaki’s hands.

Tamaki said something under his breath in French. “I don’t like this.”

Mori took the slug out of Tamaki’s hands and placed it back in the water of the tide pool. Haruhi nodded in approval while Honey clapped. “It’s okay, Tama-chan. I feel the same."

“You’re all so boring,” sighed Hikaru.

“We should play a game,” agreed Kaoru.

“No,” said Mori and Haruhi in unison. Honey laughed.

“What kind of game?” Tamaki and Kyouya said, opposite modes of expression, turning to look at each other.

The twins thought for a second. “Well,” said Hikaru airily, aiming for pretentiousness and hitting it straight on. He had practice. “Tono’s super bad at hide and seek, but we could-“

Haruhi raised her voice above Tamaki’s protests. “Yeah, no gazebos to hide in.” Kyouya coughed.

“I’ll hide with-“ Tamaki looked around. “Kyouya and Kaoru.” He grinned at them. “They always win even separately.”

“Kaoru and I always win _together.”_ Hikaru’s face was doing a lot of things.

“No,” corrected Honey. “ _We_ always win.” Mori nodded.

“Well, you guys never let me hide with you,” Tamaki said indignantly. 

“I live with a bunch of five year olds,” muttered Haruhi. She nudged a rock with her foot. “I only lose because Tamaki never lets me hide alone.”

“I guess that leaves Hikaru to do the counting.” Kyouya crossed his arms.

“Whenever Hikaru’s the counter we all lose,” said Tamaki, pouting.

“Sorry I’m not terrible at playing hide-and-seek like you.” Hikaru rolled his eyes at him.

“There’s not even supposed to be a winner in hide-and-seek,” Haruhi went on. 

“Okay,” said Kaoru, cracking his neck. “Let’s go, then.”

Tamaki was very loud. Kaoru figured they were going to be the first to be found at this rate. He wished he could have hidden with Hikaru. The places he kept spotting were too small for three.

“Over here!” Tamaki was yelling. Kaoru glared at him.

Kyouya titled his head. “Be quieter, Suoh.”

Tamaki flushed. “Sorry.” Kaoru looked back and forth between them.

Kaoru spotted a nook in one of the rocks down the beach that was semi-hidden by another rock. It wasn’t an incredible spot in any sense, but they were running out of time, and Kyouya had seemed mildly impressed, anyway. 

“Ooh, we’re getting comfy,” said Kaoru, nervous as his legs pressed up against Tamaki. Hard, jagged rock was jabbing into his skin. Kyouya was on the other side of Tamaki, rubbing his glasses clean with the edge of his shirt.

Tamaki hummed. “The three of us are rarely alone, huh?”

“Are you implying something, Suoh?” Kyouya didn’t look at them.

“What would I be implying?” asked Tamaki, all innocent. His face was meant for sunlight, Kaoru thought, not the shade from this mini-cave they had found, but it suited him anyway. _Everything suits him_ , thought Kaoru sourly. “And stop using my last name.”

“Are you two fighting or is this just how you flirt?” Kaoru picked at the seam of his shorts.

Tamaki chuckled. Kaoru was taken aback by how mature he seemed when it was just Kyouya and him alone - it was like his voice had pitched lower, turned a bit more mocking. Tamaki took parts of each of them into himself but somehow still was like no one else. It was infuriating. Kaoru couldn’t even pin his own personality traits down.

The corner of Kyouya’s mouth twitched. “Both, it seems.” 

“About?” Kaoru tapped Tamaki’s shoulder, impatient. Tamaki swallowed.

“Well,” said Tamaki. He hesitated.

“I said something I didn’t mean.” Kyouya looked out at the sunlight. Two kids ran by, much more near the water, overjoyed and chasing one another.

“Go on, then.” Kaoru’s eyes went up to the ceiling and down again.

“I said that there’s no way he could be in love with all of us. He must be faking it. Or at least have… a favorite.” Kyouya rolled his neck around, fake-stretching.

Kaoru was like his brother because of this: when he saw a wound, he liked to poke at it. “And you want to be his favorite.”

Tamaki heaved out an exhale. Kyouya bristled. “Of course not.” He looked like he was going to leave. 

Tamaki used his hand to turn Kyouya’s face towards him. Kaoru felt like he was watching something intimate, that he shouldn’t be there. An outsider - he wished he could stop his thoughts from spiraling. He missed his brother. He felt-

“I don’t choose favorites,” said Tamaki, leaning in to speak in Kyouya’s ear, but he was meeting Kaoru’s eyes. Kaoru felt hot all over. “But I do love you.” Tamaki kissed Kyouya’s neck, who shuddered. “A lot.” Kaoru didn’t know-

Kyouya met Kaoru’s gaze, too, lips turned up. “You should come over here.”

“I, uh. You’re, like, right next to me.” Kaoru pressed his fingers together as hard as he could. “Tamaki-“

Tamaki slid his gaze over to him. And smiled. Kaoru was- 

Kaoru liked Tamaki quite a bit.

It was as if Tamaki realized Kaoru had said yes - even without him saying anything - and turned all his attention to him at once. Tamaki took his hand, pressed it up against his own cheek. Kyouya watched, relaxed, an expression Kaoru had rarely seen on him. It looked nice. 

Tamaki kissed Kaoru’s palm. “Is this all right?” 

Kaoru raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, Suoh.” Kyouya sniggered.

“Ugh,” said Tamaki, arranging his face to look like an eighteenth century widower. “I’m constantly being bullied.”

Kaoru moved his hand up to sift through Tamaki’s hair. Tamaki’s breath hitched, eyes bright. Kaoru looked over at Kyouya slyly. “What does he like?” 

Tamaki whined, making Kaoru almost jump.

Kyouya smirked at him. “He likes that, apparently.” Kaoru laughed at Tamaki’s blush. Kyouya ran his hand up Tamaki’s thigh. “And this.” Kaoru felt his eyes widen as Kyouya’s fingers cupped around Tamaki's swim trunks.

“Well,” said Kaoru, watching. He swallowed. “Well.” Tamaki was making noises that Kaoru felt were quite over the top.

“He likes attention,” said Kyouya flatly, planting a peck of a kiss on Tamaki’s cheek. Tamaki panted. “I guess we all do, but.” Kyouya looked over at Kaoru knowingly.

“Sure,” breathed out Kaoru, watching Kyouya’s long fingers move over thin fabric. His own shorts were getting tight. “Sure.” 

Kyouya laughed softly and leaned over to kiss Tamaki. 

Kaoru hadn’t actually kissed many people. Or he had, here and there, in that way you did when you were young and got invited to a lot of events where pretty people were there to celebrate your mother’s new clothing line. Kyouya was the first that Kaoru had felt some emotional connection to. Kaoru had never dated anyone. Kaoru had never been on a date by himself. That sort of thing was terrifying, because the whole world was terrifying outside of himself and Hikaru. This had been established. The world had rules: there were two of them and then billions of others. Kissing was something you did for fun in between champagne glasses when everyone was watching or, then, when no one was watching, in some corner when the lights were off. It was something to mess around with, like people’s emotions and the choice of colors for the fall / winter runway accessories. 

Hikaru and Kaoru had decided this, when they were younger: desire, when shown, was weakness. People showed them what they wanted, and they used that against them, always. Hikaru and Kaoru had nothing to want. They had a lot of money and each other, the latter always the most important, the carved-in-stone sort of forever that they could rely on.

When Kyouya and Tamaki kissed, you knew what they wanted. And Kaoru knew Kyouya knew that this was dangerous, but there it was, his heart on his sleeve, there it was anyway. And Kaoru knew he wanted to be kissed like that.

The two broke apart for a moment. Tamaki mumbled something in French that Kaoru couldn’t make out, glancing at him. “Kaoru?” said Tamaki, grinning, ruining the moment just a little before Kaoru decided to pull Tamaki towards him and kiss him. Tamaki melted into it immediately, let Kaoru push his tongue in, let him lightly bite at his lip. “You’re really lovely,” said Tamaki airily, which Kaoru laughed at. He directed Tamaki towards his own neck, nipping at his ear and meeting Kyouya’s eyes over Tamaki’s head; Kyouya licked his lips as Kaoru replied, “Yeah, go on.” Tamaki made a small noise.

Kyouya had opened his mouth to say something when Hikaru’s voice rang out in the distance. “Kaoru! And company! You better not be in that goddamn rock because that is _way_ too easy.”

“I fucking knew it,” said Kaoru, exasperated.

Tamaki looked up at him, upset. “It is _not_ easy.”

“Such crude language these days,” said Kyouya, ignoring Tamaki and adjusting his glasses. Tamaki didn’t seem to want to move from Kaoru’s lap so Kaoru wriggled around until he did. 

“We’ll have to continue this later,” stage-whispered Tamaki as they heard Honey’s whines get closer and closer. _Hikaru’s good at this game,_ assured Haruhi. _It’s not our fault._

“We’ll see,” said Kyouya, tone teasing, Tamaki nudging him with his elbow in a small gesture of comradery Kaoru figured had originated years ago.

Haruhi’s face appeared in their line of sight. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey. We won, right?” Kaoru flashed her a smile. Haruhi fist-bumped him, resigned, eyes darting between Kaoru and the other two in a way Kaoru didn’t like the looks of.

“I only took so long to find you because I thought Honey and Mori would be up in a tree or something,” said Hikaru, poking his head in smugly. Kyouya had already climbed back onto the rocky sand.

Tamaki shook his head at him. “A likely excuse!”

“Oh, I’d love to see you try to find _me_ in that amount of time,” Hikaru huffed.

“I never count because I’m too good at this game,” said Tamaki with confidence. “I know exactly where you guys would hide.”

“Prove it, then,” said Hikaru.

Haruhi groaned. “Guys, I think Mori and I are going to sit on the beach for a while.”

“Aw, Haruhi-“ Tamaki grabbed her wrist as delicately as he could, eyes like a puppy’s. “One more round? Come on.” Haruhi seemed unamused. 

“One more round,” agreed Mori, surprising until you saw Honey clapping his hands, ecstatic. Haruhi sighed a “fine” before helping Tamaki out. Tamaki was thrilled. “So chivalrous!” 

Hikaru waited for everyone to disperse before turning to Kaoru, who hadn’t moved. “Lucky you.”

“I’m trying to figure out if this is weird,” said Kaoru, taking Hikaru’s hand after a moment.

Hikaru thought for a moment. “Nah,” he said. “They’re both really hot.”

Tamaki did count this time and did find them all very quickly. Even Hikaru didn’t know what to say.

—

“How do you do so much?” Kaoru picked up some more of Kyouya’s paperwork with disgust. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“I lost that ability a long time ago,” Kyouya said placidly.

Kaoru clucked his tongue. “I mean, I would tell you to get more sleep but you seem to be doing fine regardless, so.”

“Not going crazy yet,” agreed Kyouya, tapping away at an iPad with a keyboard. Kaoru found this setup endlessly amusing.

If Kaoru had to describe Kyouya’s office, he would politely say it was like visiting the aftermath of a hurricane. If he were forced to describe it less politely, he would say it was like seeing the room of a young adult who had issues with ambition and work and felt the need to let out physical chaos through this one area of his life. It was like a high school sports player who had convinced themselves to only let out their anger on the playing field. Kyouya’s bedroom was the neatest thing Kaoru had ever seen, clothes packed almost air-tight into various drawers, the socks tucked into each other with care he had never bothered with himself. If you went into Kyouya’s bathroom, his toiletries were often organized by color or alphabetically. But his office was like an insane detective’s at the climax of the movie, with the same energy of red string connecting different printed out photos of suspects spread across the floor or the wall. Except, Kyouya wasn’t investigating a murder. He was buying stocks. And stuff? Kaoru didn’t really know most of the time, actually.

“I don’t really know what you’re doing in here, most of the time,” said Kaoru. “Is it just buying stocks? And stuff?”

“Pretty much,” said Kyouya, dragging a finger across the screen.

“Pretty much,” repeated Kaoru, thoughtful. “Is it fun for you?”

“Fun?” Kyouya looked up at him. 

Kaoru winked. “Yes, fun. That’s a thing people do things for, I don’t know if you know about it-“

“Hysterical. You sound like Tamaki.” Kyouya went to sharpen his pencil. “Is fun what I call my constant and objectively stupid need to prove my father wrong? Is fun what I call moving millions of dollars around and making phone calls so that no one knows we’re out here and tries to assassinate me or you or Tamaki or any of us or take us for ransoming purposes? No.” Kaoru leaned against the wall, letting out a small whistle. Kyouya glanced over at him. “But it is fun, occasionally, when my father gives me a call to tell me to back off from buying some company in my name and not his, or when I get to tell my brother about how Tamaki was the one who bought his yacht at an auction.” A satisfied twist of the hand, more pencil shavings falling into the waste basket, some missing the mark and landing on pristine hardwood. “And, of course, there’s all of you.” He said this like it was nothing, no change in his tone.

“All of us,” repeated Kaoru, staring at the floor covered in manila folders.

“Mhm.”

“You’re very sweet, on the inside. It’s hilarious.”

Kyouya met his eyes. “Is it, now.”

Kaoru gave him his sharpest grin. “I know you’re managing my and Hikaru’s account. In a helpful way.”

“Hm,” said Kyouya. He was silent for a few moments. “It’s fun.” Simple expression, almost smug.

“There, there, Ootori, I won’t tell anyone you’re nice.” Kaoru picked at his nail polish. “Although they already know.”

“I told you green would look nice.” Kyouya expression didn’t change.

“I don’t know. I’m thinking pink, next.” Kaoru sat on his desk. “Tamaki has a yacht, then?”

“I sold it and gave the funds away, if you must know. You’re wrinkling those papers.” 

“Whatever, print them out again,” said Kaoru, kissing him tenderly. 

“Your dirty talk is getting more riveting by the day,” said Kyouya, kissing him back.

Kaoru laughed and then hesitated. “What do you think of me?” He didn’t know why he said it.

Kyouya looked surprised, which thrilled Kaoru somewhere deep inside of himself he couldn’t exactly locate. Kyouya studied him. “It shouldn’t matter,” he said, “but I think you’re the most interesting person I know.”

“It shouldn’t,” Kaoru smiled, “but it does.” 


	2. hikaru

“Tell me about your mother,” said Tamaki one afternoon, like that sort of question was simple, easy, casual conversation. Tamaki liked the simple and the easy but not necessarily the casual, because Tamaki liked to pretend he was a character in a Shakespearean-level production called life.

Hikaru gave him an uncomfortable look. It was too hot that day, and he didn’t want to go outside, even though Kaoru had gone to swim in the ocean with Haruhi. Kyouya had ordered them about a million fans for every room of the home and two of them were on full blast in Tamaki’s room right then, making his hair wiggle around his forehead in wisps. Tamaki didn’t bother moving them back, which Hikaru found upsettingly endearing.

Hikaru and Kaoru’s mother had used to tell them when they were very little that if they went outside in the hot sun without protection, their hair would get redder and brighter until they were too ugly for anyone to ever want to associate with them. It was the sort of thing parents made up in the spur of a moment to get their kids to stop bothering them about playing catch in the yard when it was thirty-five degrees Celsius. But Hikaru and Kaoru hadn’t been deterred; if they grew ugly, they figured, they would grow ugly together, and they had each other, of course, so it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. 

“My mother is funny,” said Hikaru. “She’s- she’s a funny person.”

“Like ha-ha funny or weird funny?” Tamaki rolled over on the sheets like a dog.

“Both,” said Hikaru. “Sometimes Kaoru and I think she shouldn’t have had kids. She’s too focused on her work. Like, I get it, but I think we still resent her sometimes because she didn’t give us enough attention. Typical rich kid problems, I guess.” He didn’t know how to talk about this with someone like Tamaki.

“Ah,” Tamaki said. He pursed his lips. “She’s always been quite lovely to me, at least.”

“ _Quite lovely,”_ Hikaru mocked, wanting the subject to get a move on. “Where did you even learn to talk like that?”

“My grandmother,” said Tamaki on a sigh, half laughing. Hikaru winced. Tamaki noticed, shaking his head at him. “It’s okay! She’s the one who propelled me into taking lessons in Japanese and English all the time, but they always were focused on language that was related to being courteous, saying the right thing, making business deals, etcetera.” He scratched his forehead. “But I guess I talk like this in French, too. Kyouya talks like this, so I figure it happens when you grow up isolated in high society, you could say.”

Hikaru stared at him. “You’re like, kind of smart, deep down.”

Tamaki slapped his arm. “I was second in my class!”

“Yeah, but, like. It’s weird.” Hikaru laughed as Tamaki tackled him playfully. 

“Tell me about your mom,” he said into his ear. “I like listening to you talk about these things. And it’s only fair.”

Tamaki sunk back down onto linen sheets. “I love her more than anything.”

Hikaru watched him fondly. “More than Antoinette?”

Tamaki giggled. “Well, I do love my dog.” He deflated. “I miss her more than anything.”

“We’ll fucking find her.” Hikaru didn’t make promises simply to flatter people.

Tamaki was silent. He knew this.

Hikaru watched motes of dust do the waltz in the rays of sunlight. The windows of the house were always sparkling clean; he figured that the people who cleaned them did it very early in the morning. Tamaki had an array of succulents arranged on his windowsill that he had told them all the names of a week ago. Hikaru looked at the mammillaria cactus that Tamaki had named after him. “Why that one?” Hikaru had said, picking it up. Kaoru had cackled at it. “I don’t know,” Tamaki had replied. “I just looked at it and thought, that one’s Hikaru.” 

_So I’m prickly?_ Hikaru had demanded, Kyouya snorting as Kaoru slapped his knee in delight.

Hikaru studied it now. “How’s Hikaru doing?”

“He’s beautiful! Look,” said Tamaki, holding it up in the light. “Beautiful.”

“Pfft,” said Hikaru. “It’s too easy to make fun of you.” But they both knew he was satisfied.

“You should play something for me,” he said then, nodding at the door to the other room with the piano and trying to sound uninterested.

“Why should I?” Tamaki fake-pouted at him.

“I’ll probably get excited and suck you off after,” said Hikaru plainly. Tamaki got all red, spluttering.

Tamaki played Concerto No. 3 in D Minor, BWV 974: Adagio, written by Bach. It said so on the top of his sheet music. Hikaru liked the song very much but could not for the life of him understand why the names for songs like that were always so fucking long. He told Tamaki this.

Tamaki laughed and said, “But isn’t it so poetic? You build up to the song itself. When you go to a pianist’s performance, they sometimes tell you the name of it before they sit down. It’s an introduction. It tells you everything the song is going to be before you hear it. And yet, when you hear it, it’s still surprising. Isn’t it?”

Hikaru ran his hand down the length of the piano, playing every key. “I prefer getting to the heart of things from the start.” He bit Tamaki on the shoulder.

—

Hikaru knew, objectively, that his jealousy was not as flattering on him as it ever could have been at age fifteen, if it ever had been flattering at all. He had been raised to look good. Possessiveness did not look good.

“Use this contour,” said Kaoru, tossing him a pouch of makeup from the bed. 

“Perfect,” agreed Hikaru, applying it to Tamaki’s cheekbones. The two of them had gotten the urge to do a makeover and Tamaki was always the most willing candidate, of course. He had been very enthusiastic in trying to get Haruhi to do it with him.

“No,” Haruhi had said flatly.

“But _why,”_ Tamaki had moaned, on the verge of tears, probably.

“Haruhi’s gender expression can take form in any way she wants,” Kaoru had said, adjusting the vanity in their room.

“Obviously,” Hikaru had added, pulling tubes of glitter out of a plastic bag.

“Yes,” said Tamaki, stopping short. “It’s true. I’m sorry.” Haruhi spared him a glance over her copy of _In Cold Blood._ “I guess I just wanted us to do something fun together.”

“All you do are fun things together,” said Kyouya from a loveseat in the corner.

“That’s also true,” said Tamaki, thoughtful. “You guys have gotten smarter without me.”

“That’s because we use the Internet for educational purposes from time to time, unlike someone I know who only watches Vine compilations on YouTube.” Haruhi turned a page pointedly.

“They’re funny,” said Tamaki sadly.

“They _are_ funny,” muttered Kyouya.

“I’m sorry for pushing gender roles on you, Haruhi.” Tamaki picked up an eyeshadow palette, forlorn.

“We’ve had this conversation and I told you I never really cared,” said Haruhi, “but thanks, Tamaki.” Her eyes were kind but she was still very much focused on her book. Tamaki’s eyes were watering.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all cool now and Haruhi is our nonbinary queen, I get it. I want to put lipstick on Tamaki,” said Hikaru, gaze darting in between shades. 

“Well said,” said Kyouya, earning a look from Haruhi. Kaoru went to give her a hug. Tamaki also went to give her a hug when he saw that Kaoru was doing it.

This all had led to Hikaru plus Tamaki’s face plus glitter plus Haruhi’s copy of a Truman Capote work plus the evening light, slow and warm and perfect. The ocean grinned from out the window. Night was coming, and it was excited. 

“I’ve been watching The Bold and The Beautiful,” Tamaki was saying. Hikaru poked at his eyelid with a brush covered in purple.

“You would,” said Kaoru, not surprised.

“That show is objectively bad.” Haruhi put her book down.

“It’s fun,” said Tamaki haughtily. “I don’t care what people think of my tastes.”

“When you started saying you unironically liked The Bachelor, I knew there was no saving you,” said Kyouya. His sneer was almost fond.

“There!” Hikaru grinned, despite himself. Kaoru pressed Tamaki’s hair back with a sparkly hair clip. 

Tamaki preened at himself in the mirror. “I look so cute!”

“Yeah,” said Haruhi, seemingly unconsciously. 

Tamaki turned to look at her, bright and covered in glitter. “You think so?” Kaoru spared Hikaru a glance; checking on his reaction. 

Hikaru didn’t know what his face looked like. “Do you like the color choices?” His voice was small. He avoided Kaoru’s gaze.

Tamaki turned back to him, smiling so kindly that Hikaru was uncomfortable. “I look so lovely, Hikaru.” He took his hand, brushed his lips against it. “You two are amazing at this sort of stuff.” He clutched Hikaru’s fingers tightly. “You should do this for me every day, I think.”

“Uh, no,” said Kaoru, picking at his fingernails.

“Sure,” mumbled Hikaru, turning red.

Kyouya was saying something to Haruhi, who flushed. She whispered something back to him, the S sounds sharp and almost furious. 

“Why are you whispering?” said Hikaru, sitting on Tamaki’s lap. 

“Kyouya’s being rude,” said Haruhi, simply. Neither of them offered any other explanation.

“That’s nothing new.” Hikaru removed his hand from Tamaki’s.

“Says the one with no filter,” said Kyouya, voice bored. 

Hikaru opened his mouth and closed it. Kaoru glared at Kyouya.

“Stop that, you two,” Tamaki said nervously. His expression had lost its earnestness.

“I’m not doing anything. Sorry they don’t want to share their little gossip session with the class.” Hikaru got up to study himself in the mirror. 

Haruhi looked at him almost sadly in the reflection. “Don’t be jealous of me and Kyouya, Hikaru.”

Hikaru swung around to look at her in the face. “Fuck you,” he said, smiling. “I can feel whatever-“

“-he wants,” finished Kaoru. Tamaki kept trying to interject, to no avail.

“Fine, start something because you can’t handle not getting everything you want,” said Kyouya, eyes not leaving his magazine.

Hikaru wanted to slap him. “You get everything _you_ want. You think that because it’s like this now, you can say whatever you want to me? That we’re best friends?” Hikaru lifted his chin up. “I don’t even _like_ you.”

Tamaki tensed. Kaoru just watched, face arranged into a copy of Hikaru’s, full of irritation.

“And you,” said Hikaru, sweetly, to Tamaki. “Stop pretending you like me.” 

Tamaki looked very hurt. Haruhi said, “Stop it, Hikaru. You’re being-“

“An asshole? Mean? Oh, sorry!” Hikaru ran a hand through his hair, laughing. “This is who I am. This is who you became friends with. Sorry if it’s not easy. Sorry I’m not _him.”_ He didn’t point at Tamaki or anything but everyone knew who he meant. 

Kaoru clucked his tongue, twirling lip gloss in between his index and middle finger. 

Kyouya looked at him. “And you’re just going to stay quiet, are you?” 

Kaoru bared his teeth at him. Hikaru knew, by looking at him, that he wanted to say something horrible, something about Kyouya’s father, his brothers, about Tamaki - but he didn’t. Hikaru really admired his brother.

“We’re leaving now,” said Hikaru. He avoided looking at Haruhi. Tamaki’s cheekbones caught the evening light. The whole room was golden, thrilling, expensive. He thought of his childhood bedroom. He thought of the empty spaces of his home. He thought of the warmth he hadn’t had before first year of high school - he took his first step towards the door. Haruhi blinked at him.

“Hikaru-“ said Tamaki, fumbling for his next words.

“Yeah, this has gotten boring,” said Kaoru, turning to follow. Kyouya just looked at him, expression blank.

“Oh,” said Haruhi, her voice far away, like she had just realized what was happening.

“Don’t want to interrupt their little threesome,” continued Hikaru, loud and pointed. He felt like a child. Kaoru snorted, ugly and loud, too.

Hikaru didn’t have time to hear Kyouya’s response clearly as the two of them walked down the hall to their bedroom.

“Fuck this,” muttered Hikaru, holding the door open for Kaoru.

Kaoru sighed. “He’s-.” He sighed again. Hikaru sat on his bed, huffing. Kaoru plopped down next to him. “I hate the idea of apologizing right now.”

“Why should we apologize?” Hikaru spat. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I guess we don’t,” replied Kaoru somberly.

“We,” said Hikaru, fuming, “can leave any time we want.”

“We can,” agreed Kaoru uncertainly.

Hikaru deflated. “Will it always be like this?”

Kaoru knew what he meant. “Not if we keep kicking the world out.”

“It’s not fair,” said Hikaru. “We- I- just want…”

Kaoru laid back on the bed. “We don’t know what we want.” He scratched his arm. “Do you remember that time we kicked that girl’s snowman down?” 

“In fourth grade?” Hikaru sniffed. There had been a girl who had made fun of their matching outfits like she had been hired to specifically. “Yeah.”

“It feels like that, right now.”

“You feel satisfied?”

“It feels good to lash out.” Kaoru stretched kicked the bed frame. “I’ve… been thinking about some things, lately.” He smiled at Hikaru craftily. “I get why you do it.”

“Yeah.” Hikaru swallowed.

“Yeah.” Kaoru sighed for the tenth time. “It’s not sustainable, though.”

Hikaru turned to look at him. “Sometimes I wish for things like this to happen so that I can be justified in just telling people how I really feel. So it’s mean but still not, just, you know. Mean.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t want to be a bad person.”

Kaoru held Hikaru’s hand. “Bad people don’t think they’re bad.”

Hikaru held tight. “That’s a stupid rule.”

Kaoru seemed to consider something, then said, “You know I’ll never leave you but I’m saying that anyway. And Hikaru, Tamaki would never leave us, or you, either.”

“Tamaki couldn’t tell us apart for years.”

“Yeah, but he was the first to keep trying even when we kept telling him not to.”

Hikaru thought of Haruhi. He rolled over and spoke into his bedsheets. “Fuck this.”

“Yeah,” said Kaoru, getting up to close the curtains. “I know.”

—

Hikaru spent all day with Kaoru. Kaoru spent all day with Hikaru. Hikaru and Kaoru did not spend time with anyone else, for the next few days. This was a nursery rhyme they knew well. This was easy. They knew about fences and trenches and walls made of brick and mortar, concrete and limestone. They knew about locked doors and windows closed and no sunlight, they knew all about it. Make the words rhyme and fit in a limerick style and you had their childhood, easy, easy.

But it was less easy, somehow. It wasn’t fun to ignore Haruhi’s knocks on their door, or Tamaki bursting in, eyes full of tears, while they were sewing. It wasn’t thrilling to say, “Do you need something?” to either of them, silently cutting squares of fabric.

Hikaru knew it wasn’t fun for Kaoru to ignore Kyouya, but Kyouya made no attempts to speak to Kaoru afterward.

“I hate this,” growled Hikaru, watching Tamaki plant flowers with Haruhi through a window. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Kaoru patted him on the back, thoughtful. “It’s so unfair that he hasn’t come to say anything to me, isn’t it?” He undid the plastic on a cup of ramen so he could put it in the microwave (the purchase of which was a phenomenon of Tamaki’s creation, obviously). There were jokes to make about it but neither of them did. “He’s probably talked to Tamaki about it all night. They’re probably-“ he didn’t say it.

“I don’t know,” said Hikaru. “Kyouya seems to distance himself from everyone or not at all.”

“I didn’t think about it like that,” said Kaoru, almost sadly. Hikaru hit the button on the microwave so it would stop screeching, handing Kaoru his ramen. “OH- that’s hot,” said Kaoru, almost dropping it.

Hikaru watched him unsympathetically. “You want to apologize.”

“Is there anything else to do?” Kaoru looked around the fridge for sriracha.

“Yes,” said Hikaru, huffing. “We wait for them to apologize.”

“But we’re not letting them do that.” Kaoru’s face lit up with vague delight as he found the bottle.

“Oh. True.” Hikaru leaned against the counter. It was polished and somehow never dirty. He wondered what the house would look like without a team of cleaning professionals on duty all the time. “It’s been a few days. We can let them, now.”

“Well, I doubt Haruhi is going to, first. If we get Kyouya to-“ Kaoru stopped himself. “We sound like-” He didn’t say the rest of it.

Hikaru met his eyes, frightened. “Like we used to.”

Kaoru ate a noodle quietly. 

Hikaru pulled out his phone. “I’ll- I’ll talk to Tamaki.”

“If you want.”

“I don’t want to do it alone.” Hikaru found that he was pleading.

Kaoru gave him the most regretful look. “You’re going to have to.”

Tamaki came to meet him at once. They met in the sitting room on the west side of the house, where the theme seemed to be the color white, because everything in the room was, well, white. _Minimalism,_ Kyouya had said, when giving them a tour, but he’d said it with a scoff, like, _I’d never._

“I love you very much,” was the first thing Tamaki said to him, and Hikaru didn’t like that.

“Why,” he said in reply, sitting on the other side of the couch Tamaki had climbed onto on purpose.

“You make me happy.” Tamaki’s eyes were desperate. “And- and- I make you happy. And you’re a talented, interesting person who I knew from the start would understand-“

“Understand what.”

“Understand-“ Tamaki started saying something in French Hikaru didn’t catch. “I can’t explain it.”

Hikaru stared at the ground. “You made a mistake.”

“No,” said Tamaki.

“Yes!” Hikaru rose up to get in his face. “Yes. We’re never going to be anything other than the two of us. Never.”

“And you want that?” Tamaki was undeterred.

“No. Yes-“ Hikaru groaned loudly. “We’re fucked up, Tamaki! You became friends with two fucked up people. You deserve something-“

Tamaki looked at him slowly. “You don’t know,” he said, and he was angry, Hikaru realized, “what I deserve.”

Hikaru swallowed, chest heaving.

“We’re all fucked up.” The curse word seemed strange coming out of Tamaki’s mouth. “You think you two are special because you’ve been alone your whole life?” Tamaki stared at the wall. “It’s like you don’t even know us.”

Hikaru could find nothing to say for a minute. “I. I guess. You’re right.”

Tamaki was crying. “If you want to leave, I don’t want to force you to stay here,” he was babbling. “But I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to.”

Hikaru watched him, scared. “No, we. We won’t.” The tears were quite big. “We don’t want to. We never wanted to.”

“Then stop acting like it!” Tamaki bawled. “I love you both so much.” He buried his face in Hikaru’s shoulder, which Hikaru didn’t really love because of how much snot was involved. “Just try your best. We’re not out to get you. We all love you.”

“We. We will.” Hikaru pet Tamaki’s hair mechanically. He had never met someone like Tamaki. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you are,” weeped Tamaki, pounding at Hikaru’s chest weakly. “Do you remember-“ he took the tissue Hikaru handed him, blew his nose loudly. “Do you remember when you two went on vacation that one summer to Italy? And we didn’t come along?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Hikaru. He wiped away at his eye. There must’ve been an eyelash in there, or some dust, if the room had ever been dusty.

“We missed you so _much,”_ Tamaki sniveled. “So much.”

“I thought it was all going to be over, then,” said Haruhi, suddenly in the door frame. She held up a hand when Hikaru started to speak. “No. I’ll leave in a second if you want. But Kyouya was making fun of me that night. In good fun. It wasn’t about you. I should’ve said so.” Her words were clipped but it seemed as though she had thought about saying them for a while. “You weren’t fair at all, and it hurt us all that you escalated it like that.” Hikaru looked at her, silent. “But you can’t help how your feelings form. You’re dick a sometimes, but. I love you, too.” She was doing that thing she did where she just said what she felt, nothing else, calm and collected; that thing where she looked you in the eyes and let you take the rest from here. She was the realest person Hikaru knew, whatever that meant. Hikaru felt a wave of affection accompanied by tears, again.

When Hikaru failed to say anything, Haruhi smiled. “I already talked to Kaoru, just now. It’s all good.”

“Kyouya,” said Hikaru, absently. Tamaki was still embracing him.

“They’re discussing things,” was all Haruhi said. 

Haruhi was not what Hikaru would call overly physically affectionate. Tamaki was the type to be all over you from day one. Haruhi rarely even initiated hugs after all these years. So Hikaru walked over, Tamaki clinging on how he could, and put his arms around her. Haruhi’s reciprocation was stiff but welcoming. She closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Hikaru kissed her cheek. “We’re working on it. Being better, I mean.” Tamaki looked touched.

“Good,” said Haruhi. “But we’ll wait for you, even when you’re not there. That’s been established, I hope.”

“Yeah,” said Hikaru. Tamaki’s thumb was caressing his knuckles. “C’mere,” he said to Tamaki, kissing him messily. Tamaki melted into it, almost falling against him.

“You should sit down,” said Haruhi mildly, and Hikaru smirked at her.

“Oh, should we?” He tugged at Tamaki’s hair, making him whine.

Haruhi looked at him and Hikaru felt his smirk fade. She leaned in to kiss Tamaki, Tamaki looking like he was about to fall apart when she wiped away the last of his tears gingerly. Hikaru, though, felt split open. “I’m going to start on dinner.” She kissed him, too, sweet in a way Hikaru thought about too often.

“Very domestic,” said Hikaru, shakily raising his eyebrow as she walked out. “I’m swooning.”

“She always makes the best food,” said Tamaki dreamily. Hikaru raised his other eyebrow at him.

“She should’ve stayed,” huffed Hikaru. One side of his mouth fluttered up. “Now our only options are me blowing you or you fucking me.”

“Why only those two?” said Tamaki incredulously, flustered.

“What, are you complaining?” Hikaru nibbled at Tamaki’s ear. They had gotten to the couch, somehow; somewhere in his mind, he had realized it was evening again, golden hour once more, just like the other day. The light was dancing across all the surfaces of the room in angles Hikaru found satisfying. Hikaru didn’t like the decor of this house at the best of times but he really, really loved the amount of windows.

“We could do both,” mumbled Tamaki, pouting. 

Hikaru was licking stripes down his neck. “Greedy,” he said, as Tamaki shivered. “But I’m gonna give it to you.” Tamaki whimpered. “Because you want it so bad.” He grabbed Tamaki’s cock lazily through his shorts. 

“You want this?” crooned Hikaru into his ear, selfishly, as he ran his thumb against Tamaki’s slit, cupped his balls.

“Uh huh,” drooled Tamaki. 

Hikaru felt smug. He kissed Tamaki’s chin. “I want it, too.” Tamaki moaned.

—

“Airdrop the link to me,” said Kaoru, nudging Hikaru.

“I can just send it to you through text, but okay,” said Hikaru, waiting for the Bluetooth to pick up Kaoru’s phone.

“Yeah, but this is cooler,” said Kaoru. “Technology,” he added, like that was sufficient enough explanation.

“Sure,” said Hikaru, chuckling. “Technology.” The video popped up on Kaoru’s phone. He poked Kaoru until he angled the screen so that they could both see it.

“What is it?” Tamaki was making waffles with Kyouya, who seemed exasperated by his decision to be a part of the whole experience but mostly by Tamaki’s insistence on putting a full bag of chocolate chips in the batter. Haruhi was chopping up fruit methodically on the other side of the kitchen, sidestepping Tamaki when he decided to do a dance to the music the twins had put on or spread his arms out in his typical “woe is me” fashion.

“An interview we recorded a month ago is finally up.” Kaoru paused the video, annoyed.

“It’s for Vogue’s Youtube channel,” said Hikaru, waving his arms around for everyone to shut up.

“Impressive,” said Haruhi, sweeping her pile of strawberries into a bowl.

“Yes.” Hikaru raised his voice. “So we’re all going to be quiet now.” Kaoru nodded. 

Kyouya grabbed a spoon Tamaki dropped before it hit the ground. “Send the link to all of us.”

“Of course,” said Kaoru, pleased. He went to press play. “Oh,” he said, when a video call popped up instead.

Hikaru looked at the caller ID. “Weird.”

“What?” said Tamaki, licking batter off his index finger.

“Our mom is calling,” said Hikaru. The whole room went politely quiet.

Kaoru breathed in, out. “Okay,” he said.

“Hi, mom!” they both said at the same time, exchanging glances.

“Hi, darlings,” Yuzuha replied, voice bright. She laughed. Hikaru pinched himself without thinking about it. He had grown up missing that laugh.

“How are you?” said Kaoru, almost nervously. It was unclear where there mother was calling from - there was a lot of background noise and Hikaru assumed it was some studio or something. 

“I’m doing just fine, just wonderful.” She leaned in, giving them a look like she was about to let them in on some big secret, something they had learned to do through her. “A lot of work these days, but you know the drill, of course. A higher-up keeps telling me to do more pantsuits for this collection but I just hate them so much.”

“You’re making the right choice, there,” laughed Hikaru. 

“Pantsuits are one of those trends magazines tell you are happening but nobody actually likes,” Kaoru agreed.

“Exactly,” said their mother approvingly, pushing her bangs out of her face. She looked as young as she ever had, and Hikaru thought she looked very beautiful. He would say he missed her but at this point there weren’t many fond, family bonding memories to think of, other than the Italy trip that Tamaki had cried about, and even that had not involved deep, heartfelt conversations. She was wearing a tracksuit with cheetah print all over it. Hikaru thought it was great.

“I like your outfit, mom,” said Hikaru, interrupting whatever she was saying.

“Thank you, my dear,” she said, seeming genuinely delighted. “How is everything with those friends of yours? That Suoh boy treating you well?” She gave them a sly look. She knew they were on speaker. 

“Yeah, it’s going great, mom.” Kaoru rolled his eyes.

“He’s always been easy on the eyes. And that Ootori kid, too,” Yuzuha continued. Hikaru put his head in his hands as Haruhi snickered in the background. “Oh, and that other girl- Fujioka? I remember her from that one school event. So kind. Super cute.” She talked over her sons’ protests. “I did raise you to have good taste.”

“Jeez, mom,” said Hikaru. He pulled the bucket hat he was wearing over his face. “You’re the worst.” He was pleased by the nature of this banter, though. It felt like they were really family, even for a few minutes.

“Speaking of,” she said, as if he hadn’t said anything, but winked at the two of them, “I wanted to send you my best wishes for your collection this fall. Someone sent me your Vogue interview just now.” She clapped her hands. “I’m so proud of you two. So proud.”

“Oh,” said Kaoru. He fiddled with his necklaces. 

“Oh,” parroted Hikaru. 

“Thanks,” they said. 

Their mother beamed at them, then seemed to think for a moment. “I know I haven’t been-“ she stuttered, which she didn’t often do. “-the best. Mother. In terms of attentiveness. But you can ask me for help with this at any time. Send me photos of your work, please. Please!”

“Of course,” they both said, upset.

“I sent you a care package, too! The Ootori kid gave me the address. So. It better fucking get there- oh, I shouldn’t cuss. Are you guys at the age where you cuss yet?”

“Fuck yeah,” they replied, eyes watering. Hikaru grabbed Kaoru’s hand, shook it. He didn’t know what else to do.

“Oh. Well, then. It better fucking get there.” Yuzuha cackled. “I have to go now, but I’ll call you sometime soon when I’m putting my makeup on, all right?”

“Sounds good,” said Kaoru, faintly.

“Good,” repeated Hikaru, smiling weakly.

Yuzuha nodded. “I love you.” She looked at them for a few moments and hung up.

Kyouya flipped over a waffle with his spatula. Tamaki and Haruhi looked over at them. 

“Bad or good?” said Haruhi, popping a strawberry in her mouth, Tamaki pointing at it so Kyouya would get mad, which he didn’t.

“Good, I think.” Kaoru rapped his knuckles on the wooden back of his chair.

Hikaru nodded. “Knock on wood, yeah. She’s been calling us more often lately. It’s fucking weird.”

“But nice,” added Kaoru.

“Yeah.”

Tamaki gave them a fond look. “Good.”

Hikaru went to lick the last of the batter off of the bowl before Tamaki could. “Thanks.”

The sun peered at them through the glass as they ate breakfast. By this time, it was technically afternoon, but no one seemed to care, not even Haruhi or Tamaki, who were early risers. Kyouya was not inherently an early riser but tried to be, which led to grouchy mornings where everyone avoided him. Today he had slept in. He pushed over a plate of toast to Kaoru before Kaoru had opened his mouth to ask. Hikaru watched them curiously. 

“Thanks,” said Kaoru, nearly blushing. Hikaru pretended to gag.

“What, you don’t like me being courteous?” Kyouya said, pouring syrup in a symmetrical pattern over his waffles.

“That, and I have to be grossed out by the two of you, that’s just the rules of being a brother.” Hikaru spread peanut butter all over his already syrup-covered waffle, then took a handful of sprinkles he had grabbed from the pantry and put that on it, too. Haruhi looked like she approved.

“I always wished I had a brother,” said Tamaki darkly, pouring milk into a glass.

Haruhi watched him do it. “Something about you drinking milk like that grosses _me_ out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with drinking milk,” said Tamaki defensively.

Kyouya took the jug from him. “Well, actually,” he started, and Hikaru was afraid that he was going to convince him to go vegan or something so he interrupted with “Pass me the salt”, which Kyouya did, annoyed.

“In other news,” said Kyouya - which didn’t make sense in terms of the conversation’s path but fit because it seemed like something he would say - “Mori and Honey are coming to stay again, tomorrow.”

“How lovely!” said Tamaki. “We should celebrate!”

“Oh, God,” said Haruhi.

“A party, right?” The ice in Kyouya’s glass twinkled around.

“Who would even come?” Kaoru took some of Hikaru’s sausage. Hikaru glared at him.

“Uh, the locals,” said Tamaki, all confidence.

“I could put something together,” said Kyouya. Hikaru thought that he secretly liked parties, but not in the way Tamaki did. Maybe they had grown on him from years of trying to find funding for balls and gatherings in the name of their school club. Or maybe it was simply Tamaki who had grown on him.

“Well, if _Kyouya’s_ up for it,” said Haruhi, rolling her eyes. She chewed on another strawberry.

“Perfect!” said Tamaki, and Hikaru found himself getting a little excited, too.


	3. haruhi

Haruhi didn’t like parties.

She had tried them. A lot. She had taken free samples and purchased the best kinds, tried out the worst and tried making her own. But things labelled “party” were simply not things she wanted, not really. She wasn’t afraid of them, as far as she knew - she just had better things to do with her time.

She was aware that she had made friends with people who really liked parties, or pretended to because they had been raised that way. But she was also aware that she had better things to complain about, so she didn’t. She tried to have fun and she often did, if she let herself.

Tonight she was feeling a little down, or maybe a little thoughtful, but she wasn’t sure which.

“Come try this,” Hikaru was saying, waving a plate of sushi at her. Haruhi figured that the catering for this thing was more expensive than her father’s mortgage. 

“Ah,” said Haruhi, taking a bite. “That’s really good.”

Hikaru looked pleased. “Right?”

Kyouya passed her a glass of sparkling cider. Haruhi glared at him and took a sip. “Rubbing it in my face that you’re twenty?”

“I would never,” said Kyouya, sipping champagne, probably just to show off. Haruhi didn’t peg him as someone who drank a lot, but who knew. She felt like she still knew Kyouya the least, but what was she to do? Take Tamaki’s route and push him until he broke? It just wasn’t her style.

What _was_ her style, apparently, was standing at the edge of the party, content to watch others dance, laugh, socialize. She didn’t know anyone except the four she lived with and she hadn’t asked Kyouya exactly how he had invited them all here. She figured Hikaru and Kaoru had put it up on their Instagram story or something. They had almost 200k collectively; Haruhi had around a hundred, mostly from school. Her account was private. She didn’t really use social media a lot, much to the others’ despair.

Again, she just had better things to do with her time.

Haruhi had gotten into her university of choice. She knew, objectively, that it was time to celebrate, to let go for a few months before hunkering down to work again and stay up late studying for whatever awaited her at law school. But she- she didn’t know. She felt uneasy. 

Things Haruhi knew about herself were: 1) she liked to do things on her own, for better or for worse, 2) she had worked hard her entire life and didn’t know how to live otherwise, because it was comforting, but she’d address that later, always later, and 3) she was in love with these four boys, for some odd reason. In different ways, it seemed, but it was love.

Haruhi had not been in love before this.

She watched Tamaki dance with a stranger. He meant nothing by it, and Haruhi knew this, but it seemed Hikaru and Kyouya did not, as they kept circling around him like they wanted to interject. Haruhi sighed and sipped more cider. She didn’t understand jealousy. It just wasn’t something she knew. She had seen it around town, sure, waved hello, but she didn’t know it past talking about the weather. She watched Mori pass Honey a plate of macarons.

“Want to dance?” said someone, suddenly next to her. 

Haruhi almost dropped her drink. The person had long hair and lipstick on but wore a blazer. Haruhi appreciated all of it. They looked good. “Not feeling physically well right now,” Haruhi said, trying to look sheepish, because she was, “but I bet anyone else will say yes. You look great. I hope you have fun.”

“Oh,” said the person, blushing. “Thanks. I hope you feel better.”

Haruhi watched them leave, feeling worn out. Tamaki met her eyes from the area on the sand where people were dancing, giving her a wave. Haruhi waved back and then waved him away. _I’m okay,_ she was saying. _Just tired._ She hoped he wouldn’t push it. He seemed like he was going to but then Kaoru took him by the arm and led him away. Haruhi heaved another sigh.

Haruhi’s time identifying as a boy to everyone who wasn’t close to her was not noteworthy to her own thoughts until very recently. She realized, at some point, that she was nonbinary, and had said so to everyone who asked. The girls who had come to the club for years had taken it surprisingly well. Haruhi decided to stick with telling people to use she and her pronouns but didn’t bother correcting people who she didn’t tell. She hadn’t cared years ago, and she didn’t care now. It was one thing that was constant for her these days: the heart of a person mattered most. Any aspect of gender could’ve been made up, as far as she was concerned. Tamaki’s attempts at controlling her expression only got annoying specifically because of the "control" aspect. She had found him annoying in general, but that was another discussion that they had had many times. 

Tamaki had changed in two years, but stayed the same. Haruhi remembered the morning she thought he was going to leave them all for France - she had had a feeling she couldn’t recognize, she had been unsettled by it. And she remembered the day, a year later, where she woke up and thought, _Oh, it’s him, isn’t it._ It was jarring. It’s like she had found another person living inside her.

The person who had asked Haruhi to dance had found a partner. Haruhi watched them fondly. She tapped her foot against the sand to the music and then realized she was doing it, chuckling; she had nothing against Hikaru and Kaoru’s taste, but she normally didn’t search this genre out for her own listening enjoyment. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” said Kyouya, standing next to her.

“You know I don’t like these things,” replied Haruhi placidly.

“I suppose you don’t.” Kyouya straightened out his collar.

“Tell me someplace I can sit in peace,” said Haruhi, giving him a crooked smile.

Kyouya looked at her. “We have a pool on the other side of the house.” When Haruhi turned to leave, he asked, “Do you mind if I join?”

Haruhi laughed, nodding. “The most introverted of the group, hanging out by a swimming pool when there’s a beach right there. We’re really fun.”

“We are,” said Kyouya seriously, following her through the glass doors that led inside and through the hallways. Haruhi couldn’t help remembering first year, when they had gone to the beach and they had been alone at night, the other time. She knew Kyouya was thinking about it, too, felt his awkwardness at the realization.

As they sat down to dip their feet in the pool, Kyouya said, “It was fucked up, what I did.”

Haruhi looked at him. “It was.”

“I think it’s time I formally apologized.” Kyouya was so nervous, Haruhi knew. 

Haruhi trailed her hand in the water calmly. “I accept it.”

“You don’t have to,” said Kyouya, annoyed. “You’re being too quick about it.”

“It’s my choice to make, isn’t it?” Haruhi watched a light flicker from inside the pool and then watched Kyouya frown at it. “I’m not telling you it was okay, just that I think you’ve changed.” Kyouya opened his mouth to protest. “No, listen. I stand by what I said at the time but I was also young and too distant from my own feelings. If you do anything like that again, you won’t see me ever again.” Haruhi whipped her head up to look at the stars. “But I don’t think you will.”

“Hm.” Kyouya looked up at the sky, too. “You never really get angry. Is that healthy?” He seemed like someone who knew it wasn’t, sometimes.

Haruhi swung her legs around in the water. Small ripples. “I always pay attention to my feelings. Or at least, I try to. I just don’t get angry a lot. Who knows? Maybe I just don’t care a lot about others.” She didn’t mean to say it, but it came out. 

Kyouya laughed sharply. “From my end it just seems like you’re really empathetic. You always know where others are coming from. If it affects you, you leave, do what you have to. But you never hold it against anyone. That’s a very strong thing to do.”

“I guess,” said Haruhi quietly. A light breeze moved the water in the pool, light refracting everywhere. It was cinematic in its execution, mother nature letting manmade objects have a moment tonight. Yells of delight from the other side of the house. _u good?_ Tamaki had texted in the group chat. _Yeah, with Kyouya at the pool,_ Haruhi typed out quickly, scared her phone might fall in the water. She still wasn’t used to having such an indulgently expensive thing in her pocket. And she wasn’t as poor as Tamaki had always wailed about, thank you very much, but she just hadn’t seen the use in spending so much on something she didn’t really want. She and her father had shared a desktop computer where she could look up things for schoolwork, that was it.

Kyouya spared a glance at his own phone when it buzzed from the message. Before he locked it, Haruhi saw that he had probably five hundred notifications. “Business majors,” Haruhi muttered, Kyouya giving her a _ha ha._

Kyouya seemed to see this as a worthy transition. “You scared for university?”

“Yes,” said Haruhi immediately. “Yes.”

“You’ll do fine,” said Kyouya, staring into the dark. “Out of all of us, you were always, one hundred percent going to do fine.”

“I just want to get to the part where I actually help people,” said Haruhi. “I’m tired, you know?"

“I get what you mean,” said Kyouya, failing to elaborate further, but Haruhi didn’t mind.

You could hear the ocean from there, if you listened close enough. Waves lapping at the shore, but it was nighttime, so they were too excited, too loud, mirrors of the people kicking sand up on the beach. Haruhi liked that Kyouya liked silences. She often got up early to look at the water and just think. She realized this made her reminiscent of an old lady or something, but she didn’t care too much.

“How do you stop caring,” said Kyouya after a while, hesitation in his voice, “about what people think?”

Haruhi thought for a while for the right answer. She didn’t really think about it, but she knew it was a quality that other people wanted and would tell her to be proud of. “You realize you’re the only one who will know if you’re enough. And you try, when you can, to tell yourself you’re enough.”

Kyouya swallowed thickly, leaning back on his hands. He closed his eyes and opened them. “I hate that you’re so wise.”

“Ha!” said Haruhi. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Surely not,” said Kyouya, watching her laugh with a raised eyebrow.

Haruhi chortled. “Anything else you want to talk about? Any other deep thoughts swirling around in that one-percent brain of yours?”

Kyouya sniffed. “I’ll let you know if something comes up.” 

Haruhi splashed water at him, amused. “Boring!”

“You’ve changed, too.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“You let yourself act younger.”

“I mean, I don’t _let_ myself-“

“Yes, whatever, you just are happier, then, maybe.”

“That’s very true.” Haruhi dodged a splash from him, thinking. “I wasn’t even unhappy, before, I was just. I don’t know. Existing?”

“I know what you mean,” said Kyouya, again.

“Heh,” said Haruhi. They were quiet again for a while.

“Having fun, are we?” said a voice, kind. It was Tamaki, jumping into the water and making the biggest splash possible.

“Oh my God,” said Haruhi. Kyouya wiped at his phone, peeved.

Tamaki swam back to sit on the steps half submerged in water next to them. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” From anyone else it would have been sarcastic.

“I hope we’re not stealing you away from your hundred admirers,” said Kyouya, and Haruhi looked at him curiously.

“Oh, Kyouya,” said Tamaki. “You know I just want everyone to have a good time!”

“Don’t you always,” said Kyouya, but he seemed satisfied. _He’s not smart enough to create the worst scenario you’re thinking of,_ thought Haruhi. _And he’s somehow smart enough not to do it, too._

“I, for one, don’t mind if you go back,” said Haruhi. “It was very peaceful before you decided to cannonball into this pool.”

“Oh, well, if I’m not _wanted-“_ said Tamaki, fake-huffing, a great actor, and Haruhi grabbed his arm, propelling him back into the water, making them both break out in fits of giggles. Kyouya watched them, mouth twitching.

“I’m so glad nobody’s fighting anymore,” said Tamaki, nuzzling against Haruhi’s shoulder.

“A lot of relationships have fights,” said Haruhi solemnly. “It’s about communication.”

“See,” said Kyouya, splashing Tamaki, now. “Wise.”

“I’ve read a lot of books on friendship,” replied Haruhi, apparently not embarrassed enough to say it despite her feelings after she had.

“OH,” said Tamaki, absolutely delighted. 

“It’s for _work,”_ said Haruhi, trying to backtrack, “I have to understand people and relationships-“

“YOU WANTED TO BE FRIENDS WITH US,” continued Tamaki, twirling around in the water, kicking it around into Kyouya’s face, who had been trying to snicker at Haruhi but now had been interrupted.

“Ugh,” said Haruhi. “I shouldn’t tell you anything, ever.”

“But you do!” sang Tamaki, like he had a band to back him up and everything. “You dooooo.” He hugged Haruhi too tightly, all wet. She protested weakly. “And now we liiiiiive together.”

“Yeah, yeah, get off of me,” said Haruhi, pushing him back. Tamaki spluttered and she felt bad for a minute until he came back up and kept laughing. Kyouya, merciful for tonight, it seemed, said nothing.

“Oh, wait, let me show you something,” said Kyouya, pulling out his phone. He swiped in a few directions and then, suddenly, the pool lights were in different colors. 

“What!” said Tamaki, diving under. It was dark enough that Haruhi could look in and see him looking around, touching the bottom.

“Why don’t we ever use this pool?” Haruhi said, excitement in her own voice and who cared, who cared. “Oh, actually. It’s because we have an ocean right there. I almost became you, for a second,” she said, nodding at Tamaki, who waved a hand at her like he knew that wasn’t possible. “No one can be me,” he said, continuing the narrative.

Kyouya ignored him. “The ocean doesn’t have this,” he said. The lights faded from pink to white to yellow and then to every other color, ever. 

“Sure,” said Haruhi. “But the ocean is real.” Kyouya looked at her, not offended, but with understanding. 

They ran through the house, the three of them, grabbing Kaoru and Hikaru by the arms, calling out to Honey and Mori, who hurried behind them, jumping in the ocean, too cold, too loud, too dark and uninviting, but perfect nonetheless.

—

“I’m going to play the piano!” Tamaki announced to the huge room, his voice echoing off the lack of other people besides Haruhi. He was a little tipsy from the party, but Haruhi wasn’t clear on whether it was because of alcohol or because of the amount of social interaction. Haruhi checked her phone. It was almost two a.m. Her sleep schedule wasn’t thrilled about the concept.

“Play something jazzy,” said Haruhi, laughing and gesturing at the grand, framed in the moonlight.

“Oh, will I ever,” said Tamaki, giving Haruhi what he probably thought was a proud look. He didn’t even sit down to play - he walked over, taking the cover off of the keys and pounding away at something crazy. 

Haruhi watched, stunned. “Showing off, are we?”

“Always,” said Tamaki, loud over the wide chords he stretched his hand across. 

“Does this have a name?” Haruhi liked jazz but this sounded like everything and nothing she had ever heard.

“No, I made it up just now,” said Tamaki, grinning at her, his teeth infuriatingly perfect in the silver tones of the room. 

Haruhi arranged her face into something less astonished. “Oh.”

“Do you like it?” said Tamaki, stopped suddenly, the last of dregs of the notes ringing around their ears, linking arms and dancing like that Matisse painting.

Haruhi realized she wasn’t saying anything. “Yeah, it’s great, Tamaki.” She felt so small and so big at the same time. Is this what the novels were about? The movies she hadn’t liked as a kid?

Tamaki bounded over to her, swinging her around in his arms. Haruhi laughed as he staggered. He was strong. She always forgot how strong he was.

“I’m so in love with you,” Tamaki said, tender and open, giggling like a child. Haruhi knew now, that it was alcohol, but he wasn’t so different from the usual that she was annoyed by it.

“I’m not the type to be easily serenaded,” she replied, because she had to say _something_ that wasn’t incredibly heartfelt.

“Oh, but aren’t you?” said Tamaki, taking her arm and dancing around. He sang a few words of a French song, too loud for the night or maybe just loud enough.

“No,” laughed Haruhi, irrational. “No,” she said, guffawing as Tamaki twirled her and him around. 

—

“Hi, Dad,” said Haruhi, smiling. 

“HARUHI,” he was talking over her, “you haven’t called me in a while.”

“Only a few days,” she said, tiredly.

“WELL,” he said. “A few days is a while. Please turn on your camera.”

“Ugh,” said Haruhi. “I’m almost out of battery, but okay.”

“You look so tan! Sun-kissed, even!” Ranka moved his phone around as if he could see Haruhi from different angles that way.

“I’m really not,” said Haruhi. “I definitely have the same skin tone. An emotional tan, maybe.”

“I don’t have time for your poetry,” said Ranka haughtily. “Tell me everything that has gone on.”

Haruhi eyed him, amused. “Nothing. We had a party, but mostly, nothing.”

“A party-?” her father began.

“Yeah, yeah. It was fun,” assured Haruhi.

“Ah, well,” said Ranka, trying to figure out what else to ask her. “I’m glad, then.”

“Are you doing all right, over there?”

“Of course I am!” Ranka huffed and then looked sad. “I miss you. I’ll always miss you.”

Haruhi gave him a fond look. “It’s good we have FaceTime, then.”

“Technology is amazing,” Ranka nodded. “When I was young, we didn’t have all this-“

Haruhi let him talk for a while, folding laundry. She listened, obviously, but if he had been anyone else she would have politely extricated herself from the conversation. Her father often talked over the phone for hours, if Haruhi let him. But she liked hearing him speak, liked hearing him talk about his day, his work. About how he didn’t know what to cook for dinner, anymore. She felt sad, sometimes, like she had let him down somehow, by leaving. But whenever she voiced this thought, her father shot it down, insisting that, deep down, he wanted her to live her best life, and that he simply missed her because what else were parents to do? Haruhi usually believed him.

“I’m going to eat dinner,” she said, after a while. 

Ranka stopped what he was saying and smiled. “Have fun, Haruhi. I love you. I miss you. I love you,” he said again. 

“I love you too,” said Haruhi. She clicked the end button.

Hikaru was standing in the doorway. “Oh, ” he said. “Yeah, I was just gonna tell you that dinner’s ready. Tamaki made the pasta. He made sure that I told you this.”

Haruhi laughed, closing her dresser drawer. “He can only cook the most basic of meals.”

“I mean, me too, but at least I’m not pretending I’m Chef Boyardee himself when I make fettuccine,” agreed Hikaru.

Haruhi laughed even more. “Damn, Hikaru.”

Hikaru grinned at her. “I’m hilarious, you can say it.”

“This has always been a fact,” said Haruhi, slapping his hand in a high five, a childish motion the two of them enjoyed to partake in. They and Kaoru also had a secret handshake they refused to show anyone else, despite Tamaki’s constant pestering they do so.

They walked through a few more hallways. “God, I always forget how big this place is,” said Haruhi.

“Yeah,” said Hikaru. “My home-home was the size of this. Like, okay, Ootoris. This is supposed to be a vacation home.”

“Were you and Kaoru like, the poor friends?” Haruhi shot him an amused glance. “Before you met me?”

“We’ve never seen you that way,” said Hikaru, quickly, which Haruhi shook her head at, like _of course you did, still do, what are you even saying._ “We were the least powerful family of our group, sure. But in school we had a lot of clout, I’ll have you know.”

“Huh,” said Haruhi. “That family power struggle stuff always was too much for me.”

“Yeah, it’s stupid,” said Hikaru, simply, taking the last turn towards the kitchen. Haruhi knew why she liked Hikaru - he didn’t think about things he didn’t want to. He said the things he did. He felt things very deeply. They all did- but. Haruhi felt that Hikaru had just followed his heart, always had. That was admirable if nothing else.

Tamaki was speaking quickly and animatedly in French. Kyouya and Kaoru were just listening with identical bemused expressions.

“I haven’t done enough Duolingo for this,” said Hikaru.

“You should have paid attention in French class,” said Haruhi, to tease him, because she wasn’t really catching most of it, either. There were things, too, that the two of them and even Kaoru knew and understood that the others didn’t. The intricacies of their own class in school. They had seen each other the most often out of all of them. Haruhi had realized that friendships were often a trick of fate, a choice out of your control - if you saw a person every day and you spoke to them every day, you started liking them. She chose to keep enjoying their company, after.

“Kaoru, care to translate?” Hikaru grabbed a spoonful of sauce to taste even as Kyouya attempted to swipe him away.

“It’s not the clearest to me,” said Kaoru, as Kyouya laughed at something Tamaki said.

“He’s telling a story about Paris,” said Kyouya. “He got excited.”

“We have to go there,” said Tamaki, accent more heavily there than usual. 

Haruhi folded some napkins, just to feel useful. “Well, if you pay for my plane ticket-“

“Ha,” said Kyouya, but they all knew he would arrange it. 

“We’re definitely going,” said Tamaki. He grabbed a bunch of plates and began serving food, practically buzzing.

“That would be fun,” said Kaoru.

“We’ve only been there once.” Hikaru kissed Tamaki on the cheek, then looked at Haruhi and did the same to her.

“This summer?” said Tamaki to Kyouya, eyes pleading, doing his signature pout. 

Kyouya filled his glass up with filtered water. “We do have a month left before Haruhi’s studies start. If we’re all for it, I suppose there’s no reason not to.” Tamaki clapped his hands together, delighted and almost dropping a bowl of pasta.

“Careful,” said Haruhi, taking it from him before he hurt himself. She wasn’t sure she was all for it, but- she didn’t exactly have any other plans. 

“If we were in school, Tamaki would spin this into some reason to further club activities,” mused Hikaru, sitting down and devouring a piece of baguette. Haruhi thought this choice of food was funny, all things considered.

“If we were in school, I would still be paying off that stupid vase,” said Haruhi mildly, placing a shrimp in her mouth.

“If we were in school, Honey would be eating all of our cake,” continued Kyouya, who seemed happy about this change.

“Well, I personally _miss_ Honey and Mori.” Tamaki shrugged.

“Me too,” said Haruhi. “There _is_ something missing without them.”

Kaoru and Hikaru looked at her at once. “Woah,” said Kaoru.

“Haruhi just admitted missing someone!” Hikaru reached over like he was going to pinch her cheeks but she shoved him away, irritated.

“Ugh,” said Haruhi, which seemed to be a new favorite word of hers, those days. 

_Why Tamaki_ , she thought, watching him. She had always understood why she liked the others, but even last year, she had thought, _this guy? This one?_ She had struggled to see why his kindness overruled his… everything else, for her. Maybe it was the fact that he had that everything else. Haruhi found it hard to explain. Her father had told her once that the best things in life were both easy and very, very difficult to see.

Tamaki felt her gaze and looked up at her, smiling curiously. Haruhi waved at him, ironic. Tamaki giggled and sent her an angel emoji through text. 

Haruhi looked at the message for a second. “You’re weird.”

Tamaki preened. “You think so?”

—

“Hey, dude,” said Haruhi, wrapping her arms around Mori. 

He reciprocated. “Hi, Haruhi.”

“How are things going? Anything you’re keeping from the group chat?” She began walking down the beach, picking up a shell. Kaoru would like it.

“No,” said Mori simply. “We’re doing well.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Haruhi, amused. "Still a chemistry major?"

"Yeah." Mori picked up another shell, gave it to her. “This one, too.”

“Ah, yeah, this one’s great.” She studied it. “He likes this kind.” Mori eyes were warm.

It was early morning. The ocean had a different personality, this time of day. It was colder, quicker, enthusiastic about touching the feet of gulls and the occasional jogger along the shore. The air was usually charged with more energy, the sun less kind and more ambitious, leaning in to say, _let’s go, let’s go._ Haruhi agreed. Let’s go.

“I never realized the twins were so superstitious,” she said after a while of thinking. Mori had a brought a towel for the two of them to sit on. Honey, she assumed, was sleeping in with the rest of them. “The other day they went on this rant about zodiac signs and they were like, you and Mori are really compatible, it makes us nervous.” She laughed.

Mori chuckled. “Actually, one time, I walked under a ladder and they told everyone I was going to die. They convinced Tamaki to tell me to write a will.”

“No,” said Haruhi, incredulous.

“Yeah,” said Mori. “And I don’t even want to talk about their obsession with blood types. Or personality quizzes.”

“They take _so_ many personality quizzes,” said Haruhi, tone almost woeful.

“They make a ton of them, too. I don’t know if they’ve made you take them.” Mori adjusted a corner of the towel. "Out of all of the kitchen utensils, I'm a fork." He looked at Haruhi, who laughed and laughed.

“You seem to have the dirt on them. I need stuff to make fun of them for,” said Haruhi. “They’ve instilled a need for teasing and pranks in me that I can’t get rid of, now.” 

Mori thought for a bit. “Kaoru really hates oranges. Hikaru watches a lot of Love Island.” He paused again. “Kyouya really likes vampire romance novels.”

“ _No,”_ said Haruhi, thrilled. “That is _not_ true. I’ve never seen him with one.”

“It is,” said Mori. “He probably figured I would never have reason to tell anyone.” He grinned at her.

Haruhi leaned against him, wheezing. “Perfect.”

Haruhi had gradually come to see Mori as a kindred spirit. He liked to observe people, he was quiet by choice, and he seemed to know himself. He stuck around the same people, always, and was content with the same people, which Haruhi knew was like the rest of them. When she had learned how Tamaki had convinced Honey to join the club, she had wondered if there had been any hidden intentions from Mori’s side. But she’d come to realize that Tamaki and him were even more alike - they knew how to give everything to someone. They knew how to follow someone to the ends of the earth. They probably hadn’t even needed to discuss it. 

“Do you like parties?” asked Haruhi, suddenly.

Mori laughed a little. “I wouldn’t say I like them.” Haruhi smiled at him.

The wind suddenly picked up, whipping Haruhi’s oversized t-shirt around. 

“It’s cold,” observed Mori, who had buried his hands in sand.

“Yeah, it’s getting a little chilly.” Haruhi didn’t like to think about the end of the season. That was the end of- “Shall we go inside?” She put on a funny accent.

“Sure,” said Mori easily. He looked at her. “What do you like about the ocean?” he said.

Haruhi glanced back at the water. “A lot of things. I like that it’s always the same and yet always changing.” She went silent.

Mori studied her.  “Don’t worry.”

“Oh,” said Haruhi, taken aback. How had he known? “Okay. I won’t.” And she tried not to.

—

When the twins started itching for a fight again, Haruhi knew it and saw it and told them to back down.

They didn’t, for a while. And Tamaki got nervous. And Kyouya got distant. 

Honey and Mori came over for a day and Honey said, “Oh, they’re like this right now?” Haruhi nodded. “They’re just bored.” Honey said this like this explained everything.

Haruhi figured that if they were bored, they should learn a new language, or find a new show to watch on Netflix, not play with people’s emotions. But she also knew that the twins had been the most isolated out of all them growing up and just didn’t have normal social skills, apparently. She told them so. Nicer than that, but.

“You act like you know us,” hissed Hikaru. “But you don’t.”

“I know you extremely well,” said Haruhi serenely. “I think you fail to know yourselves.” Hikaru and Kaoru were people who loved parties for all the wrong reasons, who went to great lengths to weasel their way into social circles and pressure people into drinking competitions. They enjoyed making people squirm. It was Haruhi’s least favorite trait they possessed, but it was a part of them, so she let it be most of the time. She figured they might never outgrow it, but she wasn’t going to let them do it to her, at the very least.

“Oh, Philosopher Haruhi,” Kaoru muttered. Haruhi shrugged at him and he deflated. “Fine, we’re sorry.”

“Kaoru!” Hikaru said, annoyed.

“Hikaru, we went through this already the other day. I think at this point we’re just subconsciously trying to self-destruct.” Haruhi blinked in agreement. 

Hikaru swallowed and wrung his hands together, thinking for a few moments. “I guess we fucking are.” He tapped his foot against the floor a few times and looked at Haruhi. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” said Haruhi, calm. She was tired of the drama at this point.

“You never get mad,” said Kaoru. “Why don’t you ever get mad?”

Haruhi looked at him. “I get mad when I’m mad. Maybe you just don’t make me mad.”

—

“You just seem a little more irritated lately,” said Tamaki delicately.

“I don’t want to be treated like something that’s going to break,” snapped Haruhi. 

“See,” muttered Hikaru, who got a playful slap from Kaoru. Haruhi marveled, for a moment, at the perfect placement of the dinner table at that very moment, a TV sitcom set all ready for a fight. Seafood everywhere. Expensive dishware. Kyouya, folding his napkin in the way he’d taught Haruhi, weeks ago. Tamaki waiting for everyone to start eating before he did. Honey and Mori and the twins exchanging wary glances. She wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t going to fight about- whatever it was that was upsetting her.

“I just think- well, never mind,” said Tamaki, turning bright. “We can talk about this later if you’d like.”

“We’re not married and these are not our kids that we have to pretend we’re happy for,” said Haruhi. The others had turned silent. “We can talk about it here. We all know everything about each other.”

Tamaki looked at her for a long moment. “Sure.”

“I’m not irritated. That’s all.”

“Okay,” said Tamaki quietly, using his knife to spread butter around. 

Kyouya’s bored tone rose up from the clatter of utensils. “Not that it matters, Haruhi, but it seems as if you have something eating away at you, even if we’re not going to call it irritation.”

“It’s my own problem,” said Haruhi, using her chopsticks to pick up some sushi. Honey looked at her sadly; she ignored him. “Don’t worry. I’m sorry I lashed out at you, Tamaki.”

Tamaki simply nodded. Hikaru sighed loudly, earning another slap from Kaoru.

“I think Haruhi has to think about it for a while,” said Honey. “About what she wants to say.”

Haruhi didn’t appreciate Honey putting words in her mouth but if it shut them all up, she would nod. 

Mori looked at her. Haruhi couldn’t read this look but she felt exposed anyway. She shook her head at him, and after a while, he simply passed her the salt. Tamaki looked miserable for the rest of the meal. He was the first to leave; clearing his plate and giving them all a half-hearted salute. Haruhi sighed at her tea.

“As your friends-” started Kaoru.

“-we are telling you to fix that,” said Kyouya.

“You always fix things for others,” said Hikaru. “And we can step in-“

“-if you want.” Kaoru finished for him.

“And you can do whatever you want, obviously.” Kyouya dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief.

“But you know what to do, Haru-chan,” said Honey, so kind and so intelligent, Haruhi thought, one of the smartest of all of them, he always had been. Mori nodded.

Haruhi tapped her fork against her plate. “I guess I got angry.” She laughed but it wasn’t nice.

“It's cool that you're strong all the time or whatever,” said Hikaru, not meeting her eyes. “But seriously, you can be mad.”

“Tamaki loves openly-shown feelings. Loves vulnerability.” Kyouya leaned his head on his hand, elbows on the table, it suited him even though it seemed like action he hadn't always performed. “He wouldn’t mind a good hashing-it-out.”

“You're kind of the same, if you think about it that way,” said Honey, taking a cookie from the center the table to nibble on. 

Haruhi stared at him.

—

“I don’t want to pressure you into coming to France,” said Tamaki, taking her hand in his. “We can stay here.”

“I know you want to go,” said Haruhi. “So I don’t mind going. It’ll be fun.” She felt uncomfortable.

“You don’t owe us anything,” said Tamaki desperately. “The money-“

“I don’t have any sort of psychological complex involving money,” said Haruhi, trying to be assuring in the way she could. “That’s not an issue.”

“Then what’s the issue?” said Tamaki quietly.

“It’s, well.” Haruhi rubbed her hands together. “I wish I was excited as you are for trips and things like that. I want to go, and I know I’ll regret it if I don’t, but the old part of me is like, won’t it be fun to just stay at home? And do nothing until school starts?” She didn’t want to say the uglier thing: _sometimes I want to leave all of this. I wonder whether I should just be alone._ For once she thought vulnerability would only hurt him.

“I mean, if your idea of fun is staying home, we can stay at home with you,” Tamaki said quickly.

Haruhi barked out a laugh, shaking her head. _Stay at home with me._ “It’s not my idea of _fun,_ it’s just easier. I think this is… my own issue? I’ll come. It’s not a big deal.”

Tamaki looked at her. “Your own issue.”

Haruhi shifted her feet around, socks against high-pile carpet. “Yeah.”

Tamaki got closer, and hugged her. “I used to be alone all the time. Have I told you this?”

“What do you mean,” said Haruhi, quietly. She was reminded of those first days, Tamaki’s expensive pants getting wet with water from a fountain, her wallet floating in the recycled water. Cherry blossoms floating around with it, breeze light and uncaring. Tamaki smiling, suddenly so old, so unknown to her.

“I used to just take care of my mother. I was homeschooled. I stayed at home every day and played piano. I know you sort of know this or whatever but, I,” he said, swallowing, “I wanted to say this so that you know that I know how it’s easier. To retreat into your own head. It takes effort, being a friend.”

Haruhi didn’t like thinking about little Tamaki in a giant house with only Beethoven to keep him company. “Tamaki.”

“If you want to be alone to recharge or because it makes you happier, you get to do that.” Tamaki took her hand in his again. “But I feel like you do like going on trips and doing stupid stuff, so I might keep asking you to.”

Haruhi’s throat was dry. “I hope you never stop.” She felt her cheeks heat up as Tamaki smiled at her, bittersweet.

Tamaki pressed his lips against hers, slowly. “I didn’t try to find you, or anything. Oh, how do I say this.” He stopped, thinking. “I mean, I know you all seem to think I chose the lot of you on purpose, that I had some grand plan. But I was terrified and alone. And I did what I thought I should, which was reach out to people I knew were also terrified and alone. You were never scared, from my point of view, but you were alone.” Tamaki blinked, staring at his hands. “And I fell in love with all of you without any sort of control, and it was just great bonus when you cared in return. I- If I lived a life with the people I loved, nothing else would matter. That’s what’s most important to me.”

“Yes,” said Haruhi. “I,” she swallowed. “I understand. I understand.”

“Sorry, am I babbling?” Tamaki laughed, nervous and shaky, the side of him that Haruhi didn’t exactly like seeing but also did, because this was who he was: a person who wanted to love, and be loved. Haruhi often felt that he was lucky he hadn’t found people who would take advantage of this, and instead had found them, people who heard him say the most absurd things and create the most unlikely adventures but followed him down the path anyway.

“No, you’re not.” Haruhi spoke into his shirt. “I just don’t know what else to say, other than that I will never stop loving you. You’ve made me corny. I’m saying a corny thing.”

“I like corny things,” said Tamaki quietly, kissing her forehead. 

“I know,” said Haruhi. They were silent for a while. And then: “I don’t want summer to end.”

Tamaki seemed like he would burst into tears. “Oh, Haruhi,” he said. “It doesn’t have to.”

—

So, what was France like, asked her father, her new college friends.

Haruhi didn’t know how to say it properly. The weather was so nice, she would say. I got to see the Eiffel Tower, she would say.

But it was really like this:

All six of them, on vacation, in a country she had never seen before. Tamaki, meeting his mother for the first time in years. Kyouya making sure his grandmother was far, far away. Kyouya hanging up on his own father on the best of days, Haruhi grabbing the phone to say something sort of disrespectful on the worst. Kaoru and Hikaru meeting up with their mother for a day and all of them getting coffee. Ranka, given plane tickets as a surprise for Haruhi, insisting it was halfway to Haruhi’s birthday and that it was time for a celebration of sorts. 

And then there were the days alone, where they would walk through stone covered streets and saunter into hotels and see bad movies Tamaki insisted were actually very, truly good. There were days with popsicles and days where it rained and days where they did nothing except watch Hikaru and Kaoru sew pairs of pants together. “I’m not a fashion person but these look good,” said Haruhi, truthfully, Kaoru pretending to faint, Hikaru seeming like he would, much to everyone’s amusement. There were lots of photos taken - Tamaki and Kyouya were the types to have a million photos in their camera roll at all times, the latter surprising to Haruhi, but also, not surprising at all. Tamaki announcing that he was taking classes in veterinary studies at the same school as Haruhi, he’d transferred- that had been a fight and then something quite nice, actually.

Paris didn’t have the ocean like they had had it before. Paris, in some foreboding alleyways, in some cute little cake shops, decided to suggest in their ears, _it’s all downhill from here. It’s the best it’s gonna get._ But it wasn’t, it wasn’t. 

There was sunshine and then school and then next year, they went to the beach again. Kaoru collected shells. Kyouya helped him do it. Tamaki and Hikaru sprayed each other with water guns. Honey and Mori bobbed out in the ocean waves. 

And Haruhi - she loved them. She got to sit on the beach and read her book and love them. 


End file.
